


A Mech by Any Other Name

by OptimalSagacity



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Bumblebee is grown, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Baggage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Older Bumblebee, Older Bumblebee is confused, Older Characters, Partial Mind Control, Past Torture, Prowl isn't dead because I can't, Psychological Trauma, Sex, Stubborness, What-If, alot of time has passed, dead megatron, help him, just writing this for fun, not necessarily cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OptimalSagacity/pseuds/OptimalSagacity
Summary: Bumblebee reflects on what the war has done to ravage the planet and his own well being. He is assigned to watch over Blitzwing the ex-Decepticon kills one of the mechs involved in peace talks. Plans to resurrect Cybertron on another planet throws a wrench in the gears as Bumblebee is assigned to leave earth with Blitzwing as an Autobot prisoner to attempt to rehabilitate him, but at what cost? Bumblebee has doubts about the triple changer, as do many, but it might not kill him to try to get to know the mech. You know, just to make it easier being thousands of miles away from the planet he started to call home.Warnings may change in the future, as I'm still planning/editing a lot of the later chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

Bumblebee was sent out to scout around an hour previous with Bulkhead and Prowl. There had been reported Decepticon activity on the outskirts of the city, and although the peace talks were happening after Megatron's demise, the state of affairs between their factions was shaky at the best of times. He and Bulk stayed in their vehicular forms, as did Prowl as he performed a further perimeter examination of a wider area.

It didn't feel like a threat to the yellow scout. Considering Starscream the coward had fled like the glitch he was, there were only the remaining of the Cons to deal with, and most of them had their helms focused on the idea of post-war alliance. Tensions were high on all ends, and Sari expressed to Bee often how doubtful she was that mechs like Soundwave and Shockwave could be trusted in the long run. It had been tense for all involved throughout the past years. Losses were plentiful; as much as he despised Wasp, he had never wanted to see him go the way he had. Blur had also been a casualty of the war. It pained Bumblebee to reflect upon that. The mech had been so blindsided, none of it was fair; but when was life, really? Sparklings believed in fairness and the occurrence of justness, whereas as life had taught the maturing scout, war does not adhere to any agenda. It leaves nothing untouched, no spark unaffected.

He remembered the absence of Optimus and the fear that he was actually _gone_. Even Sentinel was in disbelief, the fragger truly upset for the loss of a comrade (although Bee doubted he would admit it, as his ego was a force to reckon with). Bumblebee's chassis felt heavy as he pondered the feeling of wasted time. He tried not to think that the war they had been fighting had been for nothing, but it was difficult to accept that this was their new normal, having been brawling for years against fellow Cybertronians. Not to say that he trusted the slaggin' Cons, but it sure did get under his plating when he thought about the fact that all he could remember was war now. They had brought this planet into their extraterrestrial affairs, dragging people like the Sumdacs smack in the middle of something they didn't ask to be involved in. Sari was now blossoming into a young woman, as she had just experienced her twenty third birthday. It really put it into perspective how time had raced by while the Bots and Cons butted heads.

Bumblebee sighed. _Frag you, Megatron_.

"Hey, Bee, up ahead. I got a signal," Bulkhead stated and sped up, the roar of his engines pronounced. "I feel like one of 'em is up to no good."

"Yeah, I got it too. I dunno Bulk, seems a little strange. I don't think we'll--" Bumblebee's vox broke up as he was stunned into silence by a resounding 'thud' which caused the pavement beneath his tires to tremble. _Or maybe I spoke too soon_ he reckoned as he and his green teammate approached the direction which the sound had come from.

 _::Blitzwing::_ Bulkhead growled through the shared comm line, and transformed into his bipedal mode, weapon at the ready. Bumblebee did the same, a snarl set in his faceplates as he eyed the scene. The triple changer stared back at them, prominent servo gripping something large and oozing fuchsia. Beneath him lie the massive form of Lugnut, his energon soaking the ground around his still frame. The yellow scout couldn't help it as he momentarily gawked.

"Well that was unexpected!" He barked out with no hesitation. "Bulk, is that...what I think it is?" Bumblebee asked as he squinted at the soaked mass dimming in Blitzwing's servo.

"A spark? Yeah. Yeah it is." Bulkhead grimaced. "Disgusting. Prowl. We need you over here, stat."

_::On my way::_

Blitzwing released the twitching organ in his palm, and it hit the ground with a wet squelch, releasing more energon onto the parched earth. He cycled his monocle and blinked his one good optic, looking over the mess he had just created of his former teammate. He did not feel regret. He did not feel much of anything as he took in the shell of a mech. The sight of the Autobots did not irk him like they used to, because why would they? The cause was extinguished and now Megatron's groveling sycophant was too.

"Don't you dare think of moving, Con," Bulkhead growled. 

Blitzwing was eerily calm. "What do you want of me? I did not attack one of you, so why should it matter? Is it that important that you police even now as we flounder in the post war aftershocks?"

Prowl pulled up to the scene and transformed, blasters aimed on the largest mech with energon still pooling around him. "Optimus. We have a situation. Prowl grimaced at the scene. _Primus_ , it had to be this one, didn't it? The crazy maniac triple changer. Must be his lucky day. "You're coming with us."

~

Bumblebee sipped at some energon with coolant speckling his frame. The summer heat took time to dissipate from his plating and connectors, so it made sense that he felt like he’d been doused in rain even though the land had seen none in what seemed like months. Earth weather was strange.

Optimus rubbed his orbital ridges and sighed deeply. He swore he would begin to develop the wrinkles Sari swore she had started getting, although her skin was still youthly and full. He shook his helm. “What is the status of Lugnut?” He asked, already suspecting what the final conclusion of the mech’s condition would be.

“Offline. Completely, that is. There is no hope of repairing connections, his spark casing had been out of his chassis far too long to attempt any spark revival,” Ratchet said, arms crossed over his wide chest. “I suggest we take a look at Blitzwing as well to assess if there were any injuries sustained to his frame as well, although I did not see any evidence of such when he came in.”

“I don’t think he’s hurt, Boss bot. Only thing that was covered in energon was his fist. Ya know, the one he fished out Lug’s spark with.” He took a large swig of energon and relished it. He felt parched. He wondered at Blitzwing’s condition momentarily and shook it off. _The oaf is fine. Not like he’s starved of energon._ Bumblebee finished his cylinder and genuinely wondered if that though was true or not.

Optimus shook his helm. “It’s essential to keep order now. We can’t have mechs murdering each other--”

“But Boss bot, is it really that bad? Hear me out. Lugnut was a Megatron fanatic! He was against the post war alliance, and we all knew it,” Bumblebee stated, grabbing another cylinder of energon to fill his grumbling tanks. Ratchet scoffed.

“Doesn’t mean it’s Blitzwing’s right to play Primus,” the medic rolled his optics. “He should have come to us.”

‘The High Council will need to be contacted…” Prime said simply, lost in his own CPU. He glanced at Bumblebee, who shrugged off Ratchet’s words as he spoke them with a ‘Yeah, okay’. “Bumblebee, you will report to me before interaction with Blitzwing, understood? He will need rations and I am assigning you the task of delivering them. I don’t believe I should need to tell you to exercise caution.” The leader’s optics were colder than usual.

“Uh, yes sir,” Bumblebee nodded. “So when do I start?”

~

“OoooooOh it’s the little bee! _Buzz Buzz_!” Blitzwing’s wide, jagged mouth of his Random persona exposed the red interior of his intake as he cackled. Bumblebee noticed the stasis cuffs around the triple changer’s wrists and felt slightly better about the situation at his servos. The energon in his servos definitely was not trembling. “Do you have a gift for me? I **love** gifts! But big bad Megatron wouldn’t let me have any! How about a pity party?” With a whir, Blitzwing’s face altered to a crimson facade, sneer already gracing his dermas. “Or have you come to gawk at me you puny little Autobot? Come to laugh at me, huh?”

Bumblebee pushed his shoulders back. He had to control the situation. “Shut it, Blitzbrain!” He said in the most menacing voice he could muster, which he gathered was mostly a failure of an attempt to come off as anything but nervous. Another whir, and the black faceplate was back, the mouth smiling so wide it honestly unnerved Bumblebee.

“The bee thinks he’s scary. How cute.” Blitzwing mused. Bumblebee furrowed his brows. He was a grown aft mech, he didn’t need to back down from this mech. Even if he was huge. He swallowed.

“Do you want energon or not?” Bumblebee grumbled. This time, the scout was faced with the face he had referred to as Icy since he had first seen the triple changer in battle.

“I cannot exactly take the drink from you _bug_ ,” Blitzwing spat coldly, holding up his bound servos. “If there is a way, yes, I would like some energon. I’m nearly running on empty here.”

 _Right_. “Okay, uh…” there, keys, “Here we go.” Bumblebee eyed their prisoner as he unlocked the door to his cell, and stepped inside, making sure to keep the keys away from Blitzing. Even with the triple changer’s weapons disabled and his servos tightly restrained, Bumblebee felt the ominous presence of the Decepticon. He came so close to him that he could feel the gusts of air coming from the other mechs vents. Blitzwing cleared his vox.

“Optics are up here, Autoscum.” Icy said with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He didn’t care how imposing he was (he was hungry frag it), although that could be used to his advantage he recognized.

“Don’t call me that.” Bumblebee bit out, his optics narrowed. “No factions, remember?” That elicited a chuckle from Blitzwing.

“If you say so shorty,” Icy spoke mockingly. “Now the energon; I’ve been waiting patiently like a good mech” *whir* “And I’m starved, is this how you’re going to treat me, bug? Why are you staring?” Hothead’s visor was particularly bright in this instant. Bumblebee got the message.

“Okay! Alright, here,” he thrust the energon forward, not meaning to splatter some upon Icy’s stoic expression. His dermas turned down at the edges. “He he, uh, oops. Let me adjust that for you…”

“Moron.” Icy hissed, and leaned in to drink from the cylinder. His wings twitched as he slurped eagerly. He was drained of energy, his reserves screaming for nourishment; this is just what he needed. The triple changer sighed in relief.

Bumblebee watched as Blitzwing’s optic closed as he downed the energon with gusto. He kind of felt bad, which confused him thoroughly, because this mech was a maniac and a half. Not to mention he just tore apart Lugnut, who was large even in comparison to Blitzwing. He wondered what made him have sympathy for the triple changer. It could possibly have to do with the fact that out of all of the Decepticons, somehow Blitzwing wasn’t the most Primus awful of the lot?

“Autobot.”

“Bumblebee,” the scout said pointedly. “And _what_?” He might have felt bad for him but trust was an entirely different story. Blitzwing was a fragging nutjob.

“Do you know why I killed him?” Icy asked, his expression deadpan. Bumblebee shook his helm, very aware of the proximity between himself and Blitzwing. “He was going to drive us into the ground. He did not want the war to end. He wanted to ration the remaining energon and essentially _starve_ us. I wasn’t going to let a maniac be our demise.”

Bumblebee scoffed. “Ha! You’re one to talk. You’re as crazy as they come, Blitzbrain.” After Blitzwing offered a scathing glare in the scout’s direction, he cleared his throat. “B-but I digress, that sounds pretty rough. Maybe you could chat with Optimus about it? I could see if he is open to it.”

“Fair enough.” The prisoner stated, suddenly appearing sullen. “I am increasingly doubtful they will listen to an ex-Con.”

“He will listen, he’s going to be the Prime soon and he has to--”

With a whir, Hothead faced Bumblebee with a sharp snap of his neck cables. “Don’t preach to me about the Prime. I could give less of a slag than I did about the death of my own ‘glorious leader’.” Blitzwing grunted, face shifting back to Icy. “I don’t want to hear such foolish talk.”

“You don’t know that.” Bumblebee said, backing away from the triple changer. “Give it a chance!”

“Why do you care? _Geh raus_!” Blitzwing growled, standing up from the hard, sheetless berth to intimidate his much smaller adversary. “Leave me. I am finished speaking.”

Bumblebee put his servos up in a non-threatening pose, backing away and out of the cell. He figured this new chore of his was about to get a lot less easy if it ended with Blitzwing in a fit of fury at the end of each feeding shift.

He hoped it would go more smoothly tomorrow, but only time would tell. He needed to speak with Optimus.


	2. Chapter 2

“I don’t know if it is wise to trust the word of an ex-Decepticon who so readily offlined one of his own team members” Jazz spoke, tapping his digits against an energon cylinder. “I mean, he’s being held prisoner for a reason. Blitzwing is unstable, unpredictable, and dangerous, Bee.”

“He was active in the peace talks though, even if indirectly. He contributed, even if it was with his rapidly changing mood.” Optimus pointed out. Keeping a mech in the barricades while not in war felt wrong, but the triple changer gave evidence that he was not a stable mech.

“I think you need to speak with him, Boss bot. You and me, in the barricades, speaking with him would alleviate his uncertainty, and make his transition into the peacetime easier for him.”

Prowl interjected with, “Bee, it’s not that simple.”

“But what if it is! Alright, I might not be at your rank, but hear me out for once! Primus!” The scout was flustered. He wasn’t a youngling anymore. He had a say in this as well even if the rest of the team was used to him being the one to be taught a lesson rather than contributing to an important conversation. “Optimus.” His cerulean optics held a seriousness to be reckoned with, “We need to speak to him. If the rest of the Decepticons are planning to undermine us in this post war period, we need to know.”

“It doesn’t mean we need to tend to him ped and servo considering the energon of another bot is on his servos Bumblebee,” Prowl said coolly. “It is rational for us to suspect him of being an unstable ally. He wouldn’t be a reliable source.”

“And how the Pit would you know? Have you tested that theory of yours? So far I’ve been the only one tending to him!” Bumblebee growled in earnest. The room fell silent. When Optimus spoke, he had the attention of all three sets of optics surrounding him.

“Bumblebee. You have valid points which I agree with, but so do Prowl and Jazz. The legitimacy Blitzwing’s words will be tested in time, but until then, he is our responsibility. The fact that he is still committing violent acts proves that he is unable to function in this earthly society as an individual.” The leader scanned his audience with tired optics. “Therefor, you have a mission that I have decided to assign you, Bumblebee. You will be his personal guard on the ship to Cybertron II.”

Bumblebee’s optics widened. “What?” His mouth might have fallen open if not for the control he had honed over the years. “Impossible. Cyberton is **dead**. Don’t pull my leg, Prime, it isn’t funny. I’m not laughing.”

“It is no joke. It is important that the mechs who are able to be rehabilitated get the attention needed in an atmosphere where they cannot hurt themselves, but most importantly others. The humans are at stake. The fragility of the peace talks cannot be emphasized enough. We need this to be successful, understood?” Optimus looked upon the yellow scout with a calm yet stoic facade. “You will accompany him to the new world. This is the start of your new life, Bumblebee.”

Optimus smiled slightly. “It wasn’t my intention to keep you in the dark, but the High Council’s. It is a long story.” Bumblebee’s stunned expression kept the atmosphere charged, as did the expressions plastered on both Prowl and Jazz’s faceplates. “I am sorry.”

“You’re joking. You have to be.” Jazz was certain this was not what their leader had planned with the council. It sounded like a fantastical reflux in sleep rather than something based in reality.

~

It wasn’t a joke. Bumblebee figured that out quickly. The orn came that he was taking Blitzwing in his stasis cuffs up the ramp to a sentient ship, which gathered loads of attention from eager human onlookers wanting to get a good video or set of photos of the massive carrier for their social media lives. Bumblebee gulped, his mouth dry.

_What a change in pace_ he thought.

Blitzwing wasn’t doing so well. There was limited time to let the triple changer know that his time on the planet he had fought so long on was up, and that now he was to be transported to a planet in the galaxy which he knew nothing about and had no connections to. And, oh yeah, he had no choice in the matter. Blitzwing grumbled his dissatisfaction as his pede collided with the edge of the ramp before stepping up onto the ships interior. Bumblebee noticed, but said nothing. He wasn’t going to speak to Blitzwing at the moment. The last time he attempted that, Random asked if he had ever thought about what it would feel like to have his fuselage tanks turned inside out. And...now that he was thinking about it…

Bumblebee shivered.

The ramp retracted and the door to the outside slid shut. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to say goodbye to Sari. It pained his spark. _This is what is meant to happen_ Bumblebee pondered, and felt anger bubble up in his spark. But was it really? Was this the way to his demise? Leaving earth, which he had sworn to protect, and now departing it with nothing but a couple day’s notice...it seemed wrong. But little did Optimus seem to care. He had his way no matter what. He was the future Prime.

~

This wasn’t flying. This was a chaotic ascent to who the Pit knows where, and Blitzwing despised it. His fuel tanks churned as the earth’s atmosphere was breached, as did Bumblebee’s. The ex-Decepticon felt weak. He felt ill to the core, and it was this puny fragger’s fault. He kicked the yellow scout and relished in the sound of protest as Bumblebee tumbled towards the opposite side of the holding cell. Blitzwing chuckled.

“Frag. You.” Bumblebee bit out between clenched dentae. His emotions got the best of him and he slagged Blitzwing in the stomach as hard as he could. He could tell the triple changer wasn’t expecting the retaliation because of the hitch in his vox. “That’s for being an _ass_.”

Blitzwing wheezed. “Nice human lingo. It’s pathetic.” The triple changer spat.

Bumblebee was clutching Blitzwing’s thick throat cables before he knew what was happening, face to face with the triple changer’s Random persona grinning audial to audial. “Shut. Up. Do you ever quit talking? Primus, just shut the frag up!” The scout’s optics were foggy and he didn’t pay them any mind. It’s not like the Autobots were disassembled. It’s not as if his entire world had come crashing down when Prime announced he would be shipped off like cargo to guard a former enemy on his own.

When Blitzwing drifted off to recharge, Bumblebee knew he could rest. It had been hours since he had felt at all sound enough to relax, but he needed it! All he had to listen to at this point was Blitzwing’s faces shifting in recharge. The knowledge that they were drifting further into the abyss of space left the scout on edge. Screw Sentinel Prime for making him stay with Blitsbrain, the mentally unsound, who decided that **kicking** him was more fun than anything his simplistic CPU had happened upon in the past. The dents would take days to smooth out, and they fragging ached.

The scout put his helm down on his knees and watched the inky atmosphere mottled with stars through the reinforced window. Eventually recharge overtook his taxed systems.

~

“Why the long face?” Blitzwing inquired, watching the scout peer out of the circular window in the side of the cell. His monocle optic cycled to see if there was anything significant passing by them, but there was nothing. Just the monotony of distant stars and the overwhelming silence of space. Bumblebee gave him an annoyed look.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because we are drifting away into the nothingness of space, where I have to sparkling-sit your sorry aft.” The scout rolled his optics. “Is it that shocking to you that I might not be jumping for joy at a foreseeable future stuck with you?”

“You’re quite the spitfire.” Icy glared at the yellow bot. “You think I am thrilled to be cuffed for the foreseeable future? At least you can move around.” He _tsk_ ed and shifted on the uncomfortable berth which could be called a bench when Blitzwing sat on it. _Why is everything so small?_

“Yeah, but I’m still stuck in a room with your ugly mug.” Bumblebee sneered.

“Slag-eating mite,” Blitzwing bit out. *Whir*. “Kiss-aft to a bunch of soft-sparked mechs,” Hothead growled.

Bumblebee smiled. “Lunatic. Violent maniac. Weirdo.”

“If I didn’t have these inhibitors on I’d--” Random interjected, long tongue lolling out of his mouth, “Pick you up and squeeze your cute little frame to see what kinds of sounds a small bot like you could make!” He laughed and now it was Bumblebee’s turn to offer a scalding look in the triple changer’s direction.

“How did your team stand being around you? You’re so grating on my audials, I swear to Primus,” the scout rubbed his temples.

“They did not,” Blitzwing stated flatly. Bumblebee did not expect to hear that.

“Oh.” Was all he could offer. “So...no friends out of all of the Decepticons?”

Blitzwing shook his helm. “None. The Decepticon army did not have bonds like the Autobots. A mech would rather strip your plating for shanix than create a friendship; just consider Starscream.”

“That sounds absolutely miserable.” Bumblebee commented, his tone lightening. “Why didn’t you ever leave if you knew there was a better alternative?” At this statement Blitzwing grunted.

“Better alternative? You mean being cuffed and kept in a holding cell. It wasn’t that simple,” Icy expressed. “I was not about to give myself up to the likes of your team. Not a chance.”

“That’s stupid.” Bumblebee said. He crossed his arms, and made sure he was out of kicking distance from Blitzwing. “Optimus would have treated to a Pit of a lot better than Megatron ever did. You claim it would have been complicated,” Bumblebee smirked slightly, “But I think it is a matter of pride.”

“How is it stupid?” Hissed Blitzwing. “I had self-preservation in mind you ignorant glitch.” Blitzwing wished his servos weren’t in these confounded cuffs. The smaller mech wouldn’t have dared to speak this way to him if that were the case. “Has this war been a game to you, _bug_?”

Bumblebee stood up and stepped towards the triple changer. Frag it if he tried to kick him. “No, it hasn’t. But it sure seems like it has for you. _Oh, why don’t I just offline one of the mechs involved in the peace talks and get my aft handed to me, so I can get thrust into space with someone who **hates** me_!” Bumblebee shouted. “ _Then, I’ll talk his audials off, even though he doesn’t give a frag, and make myself more of an outcast than I already am_!” Bumblebee was in Icy’s face now, seething and daring him to talk over him. “ _Oh, and when he offers any sort of hospitality, why don’t I make him despise me more by being an insufferable glitch_.” He put emphasis on the last few words before retreating from Blitzwing, and took a seat where he had been for nearly all of the trip thus far; next to that Primus fragging window and away from Blitzwing.

_  
_

He expected something from the triple changer, but he received no retorts or further insults. There was silence, save for the cycling of air from the both of their vents.

~

On the fifth day of the trip, Bumblebee couldn’t take the silence any longer. His wires were tingling with pent up energy, and his spark ached at the thought of all of the friends he had left on earth. His disdain for Optimus’ decision made him even more despaired at the notion he may not see any of them for a long time to come. He slightly regretted becoming so angry at Blitzwing, but what did the mech expect? They were stuck together in a cell that was not nearly large enough for the scout’s taste.

Sentintel Prime, the aft he was, would always tell him to get back to the holding cell with the ‘potential threat’ and Bumblebee would roll his optics. He had just come from retrieving energon for both he and Blitzwing when his superior decided to add ‘By the way, the washracks are on the second level. You look like you need a wash.’ The scout bristled and made his way back to Blitzwing. Upon reaching the cell and not seeing the triple changer immediately, Bumblebee’s fuselage tanks dropped. He used the access code, rushed in, and… _phew_. Blitzwing had traded the berth for Bumblebee’s spot near the window. If he had gotten out of the cell (even though Bumblebee knew it would have to be by his own error in properly locking it) Sentinal would hand his aft to him.

Blitzwing glanced almost imperceptibly at him, but opted for no greeting. Icy continued to stare out the window. Bumblebee sat down on the berth with a ‘clunk’. It really was a sad excuse for a berth.

“I see you’ve moved from your side of the cell. I have energon for you.”

“Indeed.” Blitzwing said with disinterest. “Tell me this much. Why did your leader send you with me as a personal escort instead of just ejecting me into space?” Icy did not takes his optics off of the vast expanse just beyond the ship. Blitzwing imagined what the air out their would feel like on his sensornet and experienced a slight chill. He imagined being completely alone in this cell, and wondered if he would have gone insane by now. The blackness outside seemed to beckon, wanting to make even his large frame feel small.

“I…” Bumblebee started off with an air of confidence, but faltered. “I am not sure,” he said, not liking the fact that he did not have an answer for the ex-Con or himself.

“I realized I might have pinched a nerve the other day.” Blitzwing stated. “I will not apologize for it, but I do not wish to remain in complete silence any longer.” The triple changer finally offered Bumblebee a glance.

Bumblebee offered a nod. “Didn’t know you could stay quiet for so long. I’m actually kind of impressed.” Bumblebee offered the energon to Blitzwing, holding it for him while he drank. “By the way, if you kick me one more time, I am going to plant my pede in a place you definitely won’t like, Blitzbrain. So behave.”

Blitzwing grumbled. “Temporary truce,” the triple changer said under his breath. “It does get rid of that smarmy little grin you do though,” Hothead commented, switching to Random without skipping a beat. “Ooooh, where’s he going to plant his pede I wonder? That sounds inappropriate for a guard to speak such a way! HaHAhaaa!”

“Don’t tempt me. And I don’t need to explain myself,” Bumblebee commented, puffing out his chassis slightly. Random laughed at this display, and the scout felt his faceplates heat up. “H-hey, don’t blow a gasket. Come on.”

Bumblebee didn’t expect the sudden burst of turbulence, nor did he expect to suddenly have the much larger frame crashing into him and pinning him against the berth. He heard Icy’s smooth voice punctuated by a grunt of pain as his helm and cannons collided with the wall behind them. Blitzwing growled.

“What is the meaning of this?” He smashed a large servo _way_ too close to Bumblebee’s helm for comfort. Bumblebee tensed.

“Watch it! That could have been my faceplates, slag for a processor!” The scout said hoarsely, collecting himself from the impact. “Also, could you, ya know, remove yourself from my frame? You’re not exactly light.”

“Puny bot.” Blitzwing stated, not expecting the smack to the side of his helm. He growled and forced his bound servos into Bumblebee’s chassis. “You will **desist** being a pain in my port,” Icy bared his dentae, so close to Bumblebee’s face the scout could feel his cool breath.

He didn’t need to be told again. “Got it. Uh, sorry about that.” Bumblebee laughed nervously. He probably should have reasoned that after slamming his helm into the wall hard enough to jostle his CPU, Blitzwing wouldn’t have liked another infliction of pain to that particular area. “I’m not puny by the way, you’re just fragging huge.”

Blitzwing attempted to brush himself off, but was stopped by his cuffed servos. He groaned in annoyance, which only grew when he realized one of his canons was bent out of place. “All of you Autobots are surprisingly small in stature, save for that one that was with you at my arrest.”

“Bulkhead.” Bumblebee said, feeling a pang in his spark at the thought of his friend thousands of miles away. Bumblebee sighed. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. All of the Cons I’ve seen definitely have a size advantage.” Momentarily Bumblebee’s processor strayed to less pure thoughts on the topic of Blitzwing’s largeness of stature. The scout shook his helm. “How about a wash?”

Blitzwing sighed at the hot solvent running down his spinal connectors. It seemed like ages since he had the opportunity to indulge in a hot rinse. He watched as Bumblebee rubbed at his plating, the bright yellow being made shiny by the wax he applied post-shower. Again, Blitzwing cursed the confounding cuffs that prohibited him from doing anything himself.

“Bumblebee,” Blitzwing called over to him, and saw the scout visibly jump. He chuckled softly. “Can you offer a servo?”

Bumblebee scrubbed at the triple changer’s broad shoulders and back, around his wings and behind and over his helm. There was something intimate about the action, but he pushed that thought out of his processor. _Just get it done_ he told himself. When it came to doing Blitzwing’s chassis though, he couldn’t help the dark flush that seeped into his faceplates. This was awkward. Icy did not bother to look away, but instead watched the scout clean his chest. He let loose a sigh and relaxed. Sitting in that holding cell hadn’t afforded him the chance to stretch his ligaments in any way, so this felt like bliss. The embarrassment in Bumblebee’s EM field was rewarding to the triple changer.

“Missed a spot,” Blitzwing sneered as the scout ignored his panel, which was the only part of the triple changer which had not been touched by the wash rag. Bumblebee’s face burned with shame as he hesitantly swiped the rag with cleanser over the panel, attempting not to think of anything but getting this finished. Blitzwing hummed in approval, and the scout tossed the rag to the ground.

“Happy now?” He asked, flustered beyond belief. No way was this playing it cool.

“Exceedingly,” Icy said in that accent of his, the way his voice formed the words sultry. Bumblebee tensed and waved the triple changer off.

“Just hurry it up!” He barked out, trying to keep his vox steady. _Keep your CPU out of the gutter, Bee. Primus, that’s an ex-Decepticon. There’s nothing attractive about that_.

His frame wasn’t convinced.

~

The eighth day aboard the sentient ship was a day too long. Bumblebee awoke to Blitzwing groaning loudly in his recharge, facing shifting every few seconds, a pooling of coolant collecting underneath his large frame. There was nonsensical jabber interjected with a few real words and the ex-Con through his helm one way, and then the other. Bumblebee decided to wake him.

“Blitzwing.” The scout said groggily, optics still hazy with recharge. The triple changer grunted but didn’t stir. “Blitzbrain. Wake up.” Blitzwing grimaced, but no luck. Bumblebee krept closer, appearing as though he were approaching a beast rather than a recharging mech. “Blitz--” he reached out a servo and shook him with enough force to shift his upper frame.

The triple changer snapped immediately into a sitting position, and shouted, “Lord Megatron, sir!” Bumblebee jumped back, servos on his stingers at his sides before reminding himself there was no real threat. The scout cleared his vox.

“Uh, not quite.”

Blitzwing looked at him blankly, still coming out of his fevered recharge, and shook his helm. Icy’s complexion was especially pale today. “What is it? Have we reached the planet?”

Bumblebee shook his helm. “No. Not yet. You’ve been talking in your recharge, and the floor is soaked.” Blitzwing looked behind and around himself, taking in the sight of ample coolant. He grimaced.

“So it seems.” Blitzwing took a deep invent.

“Energon?” Bumblebee asked, taking in the sight of Blitzwing’s shivering plating, which was also flared in response to the waves of heat coming off of his protoform. The triple changer shook his helm in a clear ‘no’, then regretted it immediately. Bumblebee frowned.

“I’ll be back. Hang tight Blitzbrain.”

~

“He’s fragging ill Sentinel, what do you want me to do? What do you mean the medic is busy? What else could the bot be doing?” Bumblebee asked, exasperated by his superior’s lack of concern.

“It’s a simple virus. The medic is patching up one of the Cybertronian scientists who had an accident in the lab. It is more pressing, I assure you.” Sentinel waived the scout off, ready to dismiss him. Bumblebee refused to oblige.

“At least give me access to supplies. I’ve been on this ship long enough to at least know where the basics are, and yet I’m still at a loss. At least give me a hint, Sentinel.” Bumblebee said with disdain, noticing the way Sentinel’s brows furrowed.

“You will not waste precious cargo on a Decepticon.”

“EX-Decepticon. And what will you have me do if he vomits energon all over the holding cell? Huh?” Bumblebee crossed him arms over his chassis. Sentinel huffed and threw an access chip at the scout’s chassis, where it then clattered off of his plating and onto the floor.

“Don’t push my limits with this. Use _minimal_ supplies. We aren’t a charity.” Sentinel hissed, and turned his back on Bumblebee, striding off to do whatever he did on this ship. Bumblebee retrieved the access chip. _Get fragged_ he thought _I’ll find the supplies myself_.

With a bundle of items in his arms, the scout made his way back to the lower deck of the ship. He entered the holding cell to see Blitzwing kneeling beside the berth, his helm buried in his forearms. The metal surface echoed the clattering from the mech’s trembling. Bumblebee had a spark; he wasn’t about to just sit back and watch Blitzwing suffer.

Bumblebee pulled a large cloth blanket over the shaking plating of Blitzwing’s back, and heard the triple changer sigh.

“Away.” Blitzwing ordered with little force behind his words. “You’ll catch the virus.” He groaned as a wave of nausea rolled through his tanks. “I need something, I’m going to--” Blitzwing began gagging, and Bumblebee shoved a large metal bucket at the ailing mech. His tanks were dry by the time he stopped heaving. Coolant dripped from his forehelm.

“You’re gonna need this,” Bumblebee said as he wiped at Blitzwing’s faceplates with a towel. The triple changer tensed.

“You don’t need to do this for me,” Blitzwing stated in a strained way. His vision swayed before his optics.

“Who else will?” Bumblebee said, wiping the coolant off of the mech’s neck cables and upper back. He could tell Blitzwing was tense by the way his EM field retracted. Blitzwing did not have a response to that. Bumblebee knew he didn’t have to do this, but what did he have to lose by offering comfort to Blitzwing? “You should lay down.”

“That berth is too small.” Blitzwing said with dismay.

Bumblebee knew that already. He set down blankets on the floor of the cell, and pointed to the area. “Here. You. Now.” Blitzwing eyed the setup and slowly trudged over, clumsily getting to his knees and flopping down ungracefully. His wrists were cramping fiercely, not to mention they were soaked in coolant.

“Please. The cuffs,” Blitzwing pleaded, “Remove them, just for today.”

Bumblebee looked doubtfully down at the triple changer. “And how do I know you will behave? Or even let me put them back on you?”

“Do I look like I can do _anything_?” Hissed Blitzwing, his helm pounding. “I promise, I’ll be compliant. Just please remove them. Please.” Icy’s optic dimmed further, not wishing to see the spinning of his surroundings any longer. His senses were overwhelmed by sickness.

The next sensation was the release of pressure around his wrists, and the ability to feel his servos once again. He sighed in relief, rubbing his aching forearms as the cuffs clattered to the ground, deactivated.

“Thank you.” Blitzwing said, and meant it.

“Just remember, I’m the one who has been putting my neck on the line for you.” Bumblebee stated, looking sternly down at the incapacitated mech. “I expect your cooperation in return.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is sex in this chapter for anyone who is wondering. Wasn't expecting it to be added into the story so early, but something told me it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Schatz_ : sweetheart

Blitzwing refused energon until day eleven on board the ship, whereupon Bumblebee took it upon himself to convince the obstinate triple changer that he needed to refuel. The mech’s reserves were depleted and the scout had the feeling Blitzwing wouldn’t last another two days without energon. He hadn’t moved an inch from his location on the floor. Not even when Sentinel Prime came into the lower decks to inspect the supplies which Bumblebee had retrieved did the ex-Con move a connector. Bumblebee swore it was pure luck that his superior did not enter the cell completely, considering Blitzwing’s servos were free from the binds that disabled his weaponry.

“If he does not refuel, he will be taken into the medibay,” Sentinel stated, looking down at the heap of a mech from the entrance to the holding cell. “Do your best to get him to consume something, will you?”

“I’ll do my best.” Bumblebee muttered, sitting on the berth, trying not to show his nervousness overtly as he silently asked Blitzwing not to expose his freed servos. When Sentinel departed, the scout felt as though he could vent once again.

“Blitz.” Bumblebee strode over to to him, and knelt down. “You need energon. Don’t shake your helm, you know you do. Do you want to be force fed? Because personally, that sounds like the Pit to me.”

Blitzwing groaned. “No energy. I cannot lift my helm if I tried,” the triple changer scowled. Feeling this weak was getting to his CPU.

“That can be remedied.” Bumblebee reached down, wrapping his servos around the mech’s helm and lifting it so that Blitzwing’s cheek rested against his leg. He was propped up enough to angle the cup of energon to his dermas. It took a rather long time for the triple changer to down the liquid, but eventually he managed to empty the cylinder. “There. Not so hard, was it?” Bumblebee felt a small surge of pride at his attentiveness. It had given him a purpose, something to focus on; not that he wished sickness on any bot.

“What do I owe you for...all of this?” Blitzwing asked weakly. Bumblebee felt confusion grip his CPU.

“Other than compliance? Nothing.” He shrugged. Blitzwing scoffed.

“Really? You want nothing to do with me,” Blitzwing huffed. “I am a pain in your processor. I’m an ex-Con. There has to be a catch to this.” Blitzwing squinted his optic and narrowed his monocle. “Do not play games with me.”

“Just accept my help, will you?” Bumblebee huffed, realizing too late that he had rested his empty servo on the triple changer’s helm. He swallowed, his mouth dry. “What, you thought I would let you die? Sentinel would have my helm! And Optimus…” the scout trailed off. _Forget him_ , “...doesn’t matter. I...would rather not be alone.” Bumblebee admitted rather sheepishly.

Blitzwing quirked an optical ridge. “You would rather spend your time with the likes of me than be alone? Ha!” Blitzwing actually chuckled then. Bumblebee’s face heated up, and he straightened his posture. “Thought that you said you hated my gears,” Blitzwing hummed, his voice too nice for that of an ex-Con.

“I never said that! Don’t put words in my mouth!” The scout said, his door wings flared. Through his discomfort, Blitzwing smiled at Bumblebee, who was instantly uncomfortable at the way his spark fluttered at Icy’s typically stoic expression so…

_Handsome_

.

“Your kindness is appreciated.” Blitzwing said softly as he closed his dimming rouge optic. Bumblebee responded with a curt, ‘ _Yeah, don’t mention it_ ’. He was tempted to move at first, but he felt bad after seeing the dent in Blitzwing’s forehelm from his collision with the wall. Biting his lower derma, he shifted slightly, making sure to adjust the mech’s helm more comfortably in his lap. Bumblebee never knew a bot who used to be a Decepticon could look so peaceful. If Blitzwing was still awake, he did not show it.

~

When the ship landed, it shocked both Bumblebee and Blitzwing. They nearly fell back to the floor as Blitzwing’s helm collided with the scout’s nasal ridge with a ‘crack’. Bumblebee cursed, clasping a servo over his face.

“Primus, Blitzbrain! Fraggit!” Energon leaked from his faceplates as he searched desperately through the mess of blankets for the stasis cuffs. Blitzwing was the one to come up with them, shoving them towards the yellow bot with urgency.

Bumblebee furrowed his forehelm as he fiddled with the cuffs, sliding them over the chapped metal of Blitzwing’s wrist plating, and finally snapping them shut. Bumblebee huffed as he noticed the smeared energon on the surface of the cuffs, and proceeded to quell the bleeding with the blankets, which carried the scent of illness. Sentinel Prime stepped up to the cell to see the scout with energon covered cloths, and the prisoner standing at attention, albeit shakily. He frowned.

“You should have been more careful,” the mech stated, eyeing Blitzwing with disdain. “Don’t forget his origins, Bumblebee. It’s wreckless of you to do so.”

Blitzwing narrowed his optics, realizing the orange and blue bot assumed he had clocked his smaller guard, but retained his silence. He did not owe this bot anything. He had a loud mouth for such a small mech, and Blitzwing could imagine clearly how Sentinel’s demeanor would have been if not for his activated stasis cuffs. “Take your prisoner and lead him. I expect nothing less than complete control over him. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, sir.” Bumblebee stated, wiping away the congealing energon from his faceplates. Sentinel glanced at the triple changer with evident spite, sizing him up.

“If you try anything, you’ll be sorry. That’s all I’m going to say.” Blitzwing didn’t spare him a look filled with hatred.

As Sentinel Prime turned on his heel, Blitzwing bared his dentae in disgust. He then spat on the floor of the holding cell, cursing it for what it was worth. Bumblebee felt the triple changer jump as he laid a servo against his upper arm, directing him towards the exit. Blitzwing’s CPU was still recovering from the virus, giving him a mean case of vertigo. Not to mention his helm throbbed where he nearly scrambled his processor, the raised portion of his helm a reminder of when he had landed on the scout. _Speaking of the bot_...

Blitzwing felt like he owed him, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that he had no idea how to repair the strangely kind bot either. Not that Bumblebee didn’t insult him, but when he did, Blitzwing quite liked it. It wasn’t malicious, either; not Decepticon levels of low, the kind of insults which really infiltrated one’s CPU. No, it was harmless banter really, and the triple changer looked forward to it.

He hadn’t expected to lay on the bot’s lap until he drifted into recharge either. Now that was a surprise to the ex-Con. It confused him. Was the mech showing interest or was he just that considerate? Blitzwing glanced down at his small guard and allowed his gaze to drop lower to the narrow hips of the scout. He swallowed a surge of want, and righted himself to hold his helm up high. _Not bad…_ he contemplated, sneaking a look at Bumblebee’s aft. His CPU reminded him how long it had been since his last interface, how nice it would be to push the slighter mech against one of the ship’s corridor walls. Frag him harder than the bot had probably ever experienced…

“You’re still running hot,” Bumblebee observed as they ascended the lift to the upper floors of the aircraft. “Maybe you should see the medic after all.”

Blitzwing smirked. “No, I’m alright. That won’t be necessary.”

~

They were assigned to a hab suite in an immense structure with no defining features. It said cold and professional, but at least the berths had blankets. Sentinel Prime had pointed out the energon stores, the modes of communication, and the requirements for the upcoming week. All the while, the superior mech attempted to ignore the size of the ex-Decepticon looming over him now that they were in closer proximity to each other.

“You will be prompt. You will not question any orders given. This is how everything has been planned whether you agree with it or not. This mech is your responsibility.” Sentinel scowled at Blitzwing. “Anything this mech does will fall on your shoulders, so understand that there will be repercussions for his resistance to adhere to the rules I have laid out.” Sentinel pointed at the data pad on the counter top. “Is. That. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” Bumblebee stated, although he was more interested in looking around the room rather than paying attention to his superior.

“Don’t disappoint me, Bumblebee,” growled Sentinel Prime, grumbling about how he didn’t expect much as he departed the suite. The door clicked shut, and there was palpable silence between the two mechs he left behind. Blitzwing growled.

“Frag that mech.” Bumblebee laughed.

“He’s a delight to be around isn’t he? Gotta love Sentinel.” The scout stuck his middle digit up at the door. Blitzwing tilted his helm.

“What is _that_?”

“Basically the human’s way of saying ‘frag you’. I thought it was appropriate.” Blitzwing humphed in reply, glancing down at his cuffs, and wondering if he could convince Bumblebee to release his servos again. He highly doubted it, but it gave it a go anyhow.

“Now that we are here, can I free my servos? It only makes sense, given that you do not want to be burdened by my needs.”

“No can do big guy,” Bumblebee said, flopping back on one of the berths. “You think I want to be punished for your happy accidents?” Blitzwing scoffed, and tried again. “Let me answer that for you: Pit no.”

Blitzwing stiffened in annoyance, and trudged over toward the berth where the scout lounged. “I was not only referring to simple refueling and restroom visits, bug.” Blitzwing leered. “Unless you would care to service me in more...intimate ways, I would like the ability to use my servos.” Bumblebees optics widened, and Random made an appearance after days, cackling at his expense. “Your face is so dark _schatz_! The Autobot has the hots for me, haHAH! Who would have thought?” Even with the maniacally happy tones, Random’s red optics were narrowed, set on Bumblebee.

“N-no! _Nonono_ , not gonna happen. Not a chance in Pit Blitzbrain.” Bumblebee was frustrated and taken aback by the fact that the triple changer had the gal. He wasn’t his servant! And yet even then the scout’s frame heated up at thought of the larger mech propositioning him. He was going to tell the mech to frag himself, but he realized he literally could not with the stasis cuffs. _Primus, you don’t like to make my life easy, do you?_

Bumblebee threw his servos up. “Fine! Give me your fragging servos,” he barked out, annoyed that he was on this strange planet with this horny mech who he really couldn’t blame, considering he’d been at their mercy the entire time. Blitzwing obliged, thrusting his servos hastily at the smaller bot, and staring down at him expectantly.

Blitzwing grew steadily impatient as Bumblebee hesitated. “Well?” Icy asked, his tone emotionless. Bumblebee swallowed, and sat back.

“No.” Blitzwing slammed his servos into the berth surface, inevitably denting the surface with the force of the impact. Bumblebee jumped clear of the berth, and held up his servos. “Woah, woah! Seriously, Blitz, calm it!” The scout dared to place a servo against the triple changer’s large shoulder plate. “Don’t be like that. You know we both have to be in this situation. W-why don’t we make the best of it?” Bumblebee asked, looking into Icy’s different sized optics. He had his attention for sure. Bumblebee hesitantly reached out towards Blitzwing’s faceplates, asking himself what he was doing, why he was putting himself in this position. Excitement thrummed through his spark as his servo reached Blitzwing jaw, which he cupped gently. The triple changer didn’t shy away.

“What exactly do you mean by that, Bumblebee?” Blitzwing asked with rapt attention. He was pleasantly surprised when he felt the bot press his dermas to his own. This was a turn of events which the ex-Con hadn’t expected, but he wasn’t about to complain. He deepened the kiss, and closed his optic. Bumblebee pulled at Blitzwing’s neck cables, moaning as the larger mech pushed into the kiss, a pang developing his his spark. When had anyone ever kissed him in the Decepticon ranks? He couldn’t remember the last time this had happened, and that made it all the more significant that it was happening now. He began to tremble slightly in anticipation.

Bumblebee felt breathless as he broke the kiss, finding that he servos had ended up petting over the dark glass of the triple changer’s cockpit. He felt the deep, rumbling vocalization that Blitzwing made as he waited for another response from Bumblebee. If this was going where he thought it was going, he didn’t know how things would play out. _How do Autobots ‘face?_ He asked himself as the scout explored his chassis with interest, then nudged him towards the berth.

“Sit with your back against the wall.” Bumblebee ordered, and Blitzwing adjusted himself as well as he could without the use of his servos. He liked this. He liked this _a lot_. “Y-you can open your panels,” the scout said, his voice hoarse with want he hadn’t realized he had been suppressing. He proceeded to release his own, feeling the dribble of warm, wet fluids trickle from his valve, and his turgid spike jut from between his amber thighs. Blitzwing gazed at him hungrily, longing to touch the plush cobalt valve, the spike that seemed perfectly proportioned to the scout’s frame…

When Blitzwing released his spike, he could see that Bumblebee might have been expecting a lesser endowed bot, but alas, the triple changer had large equipment to match his frame. His spike was thick, and widened slightly more towards the tip, where it then tapered back into a wide, rounded head.

_Primus, what did I agree to?_ That spike was massive, yet Bumblebee’s valve clenched. The scout climbed onto the birth, eyeing Blitzwing, as if he hadn’t already thrown caution to the wind, and took his girth into one servo. It was lined with ridges near the uppermost portion and matched the violet tones of the mech’s plating scheme. Blitzwing groaned, the sensory data almost too much. It had been a _long_ time.

“Hmmm...might want to prepare yourself,” the triple changer stated smugly. Bumblebee squeezed the rod more tightly and elicited a grunt from the larger mech.

“And I say I can take it without much prep,” the scout bragged. “You underestimate me.” With that, he lined the throbbing spike up with his valve, and began to sink down onto it. Blitzwing clenched his dentae.

“Primus.” He gritted out, optics trained on the scout’s taut valve over his ample girth. “You look so good stretched over my spike. Why hadn’t I thought of something like this years ago? Just imagine,” Blitzwing hummed in pleasure as Bumblebee sank further onto his strained spike, staying true to the claim that preparation was not necessary--until he hit the midway point. The scout took a deep breath.

Blitzwing felt coolant bubbling to the surface of his plating, The way Bumblebee struggled to sink further onto his spike made his fans revv even higher, made every part of his being wish his servos were free to loosen the tight valve, to coax the smaller bot into overload before taking him. Bumblebee must’ve noticed, because his face became darkened with a fierce blush. The triple changer didn’t show any evidence of emotion beyond neutral observation at this point.

“As I advised earlier, preparation would be of help in this situation. Unless you want to make yourself walk with a limp in the morning. That choice is completely yours. I have no objection either way,” Icy said cooly, taking in the spectacle of a former Autobot soldier on his spike, taking it like a pro, continuing to spear himself on the wide circumference of the thick cock beneath him.

Bumblebee looked up, cerulean optics sultry. The years had worn on the scout, but frag did they fit him; his frame had matured in ways that the Bumblebee never expected it would. He was average height for an Autobot, but sitting in Blitzwing’s lap, he felt out of his element. It did add excitement to the frag, he had to admit. When he bottomed out, he felt too full, yet filled with this perfect mixture of pain-pleasure-pressure. Blitzwing had his helm thrown back, and Bumblebee couldn’t help but feel a lick of pride.

“Heh...been a while, Blitzbrain?” The scout asked, gyrating his slim hips atop his former enemy, relishing in the pleasured sounds coming from the triple changer’s vox. Icy’s expression was that of bliss; he needed just a moment to get his CPU together.

“How did you know? There’s not been many who were willing to take my spike so readily or willingly,” Blitzwing moaned, vox filled with static. Admittedly, Bumblebee was having a hard time keeping it together. He rose up, shoulder cables taut, and fell down upon the spike once more, feeling connectors come alive which hadn’t been activated in eons. He’d never admit that to the ex-Con, though. He felt the guard role was fitting in this circumstance. Call him evil, call him whatever, he didn’t care. The triple changer had consented to having his spike lodged deep within him, and that was all that mattered.

“I have ways of knowing. Namely that you look like you’re going to overload any klik know,” Bumblebee would have laughed, but he was too consumed with riding the thick spike assaulting his valve with a slew of new, pleasurable sensations. Blitzwing’s vents were on, cycling at full gear. Bumblebee felt as if his inner valve canal was splitting to allow the massive intrusion. He’d had partners, but none that were this well endowed. He felt powerful, and the scout knew he would feel even more so if he made the ex-Con tip into overload this quickly. “You like that, don’t you, big bot? Mm, you like my small valve nearly _crushing_ your spike, I can see it all over your faceplates. You say that not many mechs have wanted this? Pfft, their loss.” Bumblebee clenched the walls of his valve, and felt heat pool in his lower abdomen at Blitzwing’s expression of bliss.

“Yes, ah, n-not everyone is so...mmmm, so flexible, I suppose,” Icy’s voice wavered as he watched the scout with rapt attention as he slowed his pace and squeezed, teasing the triple changer. Blitzwing growled out in frustration. “What I would do if these cuffs weren’t binding my servos…” the mech said, voice sultry and hoarse. Bumblebee lifted an optic ridge.

“Oh? Why not give me an idea? Let me on to what’s going on inside your CPU.” The scout smirked as he sank down suddenly, taking the entirety of the length inside of him. Blitzwing gasped, his servos clenched inside their prison. The triple changer smiled wickedly.

“Well, first, I’d flip us over so that I could see you below me. I would have more leverage that way,” Blitzwing stated, and thrusted upwards, catching Bumblebee off guard. The scout yelped out an undignified ‘hey’ as the head of the spike bumped his internal chamber. Blitzwing was pleased with himself, oh yes. “Then I’d restrain your servos above your helm, let you know how it feels to be out of touch with control, mmmm, ram you over and over again with my spike until you screamed for me…”

Bumblebee ground against the spike, coolant running down his spinal connectors and chassis. Blitzwing was fragging _hot_ and not just temperature-wise; where had this mech been all of his life? The scout itched to take the ex-Con up on removing the stasis cuffs, just so he could see if the mech followed through with fragging him absolutely strutless.

“Yeah, yeah, oh **Primus** ,” Bumblebee felt his internals growing hotter yet, his valve clenching in an increasingly random pattern as he rode Blitzwing for all that it was worth. Blitzwing swore he saw spots as the scout’s valve became ever tighter.

“B-Bumblebee, frag yes, keep going like that,” the triple changer hissed, “Come on,” he bit out, the cables in his legs alive with the pleasure running throughout them. “Overload,” Blitzwing commanded, watching the smaller bot hungrily.

Bumblebee did. He held onto the triple changer’s chassis while pleasure wracked his frame. Blitzwing couldn’t hold out as the valve around his spike clenched, sending him into overload as well. Bumblebee felt his lower abdomen distend slightly as the larger mech finished inside of him and moaned. He was trembling and venting hard, now using Blitzwing’s chassis as a support so he wouldn’t fall forward. He didn’t know if he would be able to get back up if he did.

Blitzwing remembered as the post overload haze cleared that the fluid trapped in Bumblebee’s valve would soon cascade all over his lap and legs when the bot slid off of his spike. There was already a trickle of transfluid, and the triple changer grimaced.

“Now, how are we going to clean this up?” Blitzwing asked, looking down at the scout, who was still getting ahold of himself. Bumblebee groaned.

“Frag me, do I have to do everything?” Bumblebee whined. Blitzwing sneered.

“Already did that.” Bumblebee shot him a look fit to kill. “And yes, you do. My servos are tied, because somebot decided to leave me bound, remember?” Random took over, grinning impossibly wide. “Hahah wasn’t that a good outcome? The little guard taking our spike and loving it! We should have gotten that on video for proof! Look at him _squirm_!”

Bumblebee slapped the chassis in front of him. “Can it, Blitzbrain!”


	4. Chapter 4

The morning came with a strange indigo-violet haze bathing the hab suite in alien light. Bumblebee groaned, the events of the past afternoon flooding back to him. He opened his optics slightly, and was started awake at the sight of the triple changer’s plating so close to his own. He felt a rush of energon to his face, and nearly fell out of the berth in his haste to distance himself from his roommate. The scout sighed, and thought the morning might turn out fine, but he was mistaken. Sentinel Prime’s obnoxious vox pierced his audials, his voice loud enough to scare the Pit out of Blitzwing, who shot up, canons aiming at an unknown threat. Bumblebee was not impressed.

 _Screw you, Big Chin_ he thought, rubbing his helm.

“Report to my office with your prisoner, Bumblebee. You are now a **minute** late and counting. I am not a patient mech.” The intercom system ended with a click. All Bumblebee could manage was a tired glance over at Blitzwing, who looked personally offended by the announcement.

“Let’s go,” the scout said annoyedly, leading the way to the start of an eternity with a superior who had a pipe shoved so far up his aft he might as well be choking on it.

~

“He needs a thorough examination, as do you. No doubt that virus is still lingering somewhere in his energon network. He also needs an implementation of the safety program, so you’ll need to wait with him while that procedure is underway. Is that clear?” Sentinel stood with his servos tucked at the base of his back. “Also, if you’re late again, I’ll have to enforce punishment. So if you value your free time, I’d say be more aware of the schedule I _outlined_ for you.”

“Yes sir.” Bumblebee said, saluting the mech, and leading Blitzwing away towards the medical wing of the base. The ex-Con seemed especially tense as they neared the medibay, and the scout wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure there was a slight tremble in the triple changer’s plating.

“Is this really necessary?” Blitzwing asked, voice quiet. Bumblebee could feel it in the mech’s EM field there was trepidation. The scout nudged the triple changer with a smirk.

“What? Scared of needles? It’s alright, this is an Autobot-run institution, Blitzbrain. Don’t worry about it. The medics here aren’t psychopaths, promise.”

“N-no, but wouldn’t it be a waste of time? My virus is clear out of my system, its nonexistent. I cannot find it in anywhere in my CPU. Can’t we just-”

“Sorry Blitz, Sentinel won’t take noncompliance. It’ll be a lot worse if you avoid this now.” Bumblebee urged the ex-Con to enter the space which was accented by stark white walls and steel appliances. Blitzwing halted his movement.

“Don’t make me do this,” the triple changer pleaded, his vox sounding far off. Bumblebee looked at the ex-Con, wondering what he could do in this situation. The mech looked as if he was about to bolt. As if answering his thoughts, the medic reached out, completely immobilizing the triple changer with a charged wave of something that stunned the triple changer’s neural connectors. Blitzwing shrieked in shock as he lost absolute feeling in his limbs, the numbing sensation all too close to the anesthesia used on his systems when he was operated on during his evolution into the three-faced mech he was now. His optic was wide in trepidation.

“I can’t have you running away from me. It will be a short procedure, no need to be scared. It’s just protocol--non-invasive, really.” The medic’s assistants helped him to lift the triple changer from the cold ground and up onto the nearest sterile berth. Blitzwing was succumbing to his growing fear, but could do nothing to withdraw from it all. His cooling fans roared to life, taking on a piercing tone as the metal around them retracted in horror.

“Bumblebee...Bumblebee, don’t leave me here…” Blitzwing pleaded with the scout, terrified beyond belief of the memories he forgot he even stored of his ‘transformation’. He would attempt to close his optics, but that would only allow for the waking nightmare to become more vivid.

“I’m right here, Blitzwing, it’s going to be alright,” Bumblebee said from where he stood, unsure of what to do for the mech in distress. He bit down hard on his lower derma. “Hey Doc, can I come stand by the table? I’ve got to be here for the duration of the process, so I figured it might be easier--”

“Just steer clear of my work zone and you’re fine,” the medic responded promptly, sanitizing his servos. “I’m going to be near the base of his neck for most of this.”

“No,” Blitzwing stated clearly, meaning to sound menacing, but only uttering in a voice laced with pure terror. “No, don’t put me under, please, I can take the pain! Just don’t put me under, I can’t!”

The medic sighed. “Calm, calm now bot, you’re alright. I am not going to have to put you under. It’s a quick process see, I’ll have you up and out of here in a klik. Just try your best to relax; no need to stress your CPU further.”

Bumblebee imagined the triple changer would have been thrashing if he didn’t have the sensory net dampener activated by the medic. He knelt down, coming into the ex-Con’s range of vision, and offered a weak smile. “Blitz, it’s going to be alright, I promise. I’m right here.”

The scout could see Blitzwing’s frame trembling. He supposed it was a result of trauma, considering Bumblebee didn’t know half of what the Decepticon medics’ mannerisms were like. Judging from the triple changer’s response, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out.

The medic found his way over and began to work diligently at the base of Blitzwing’s neck. The ex-Con didn’t calm down at all. In fact, his fear only grew as he heard the medibot accessing the inner mechanisms of his frame which were _not_ meant to be touched. He felt violated as the medic pried into his deepest wires and sensitive connectors leading to his CPU. He couldn’t feel pain, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t detect pressure as the mech dipped his servos beneath his plating. He felt ill.

“Stop,” Blitzwing whispered, his optics dilated like a turbocat’s in the absence of light. Bumblebee knew he couldn’t feel it, but he rubbed a soothing servo over the triple changer’s shoulder plating.

“Weapons are offline and safety protocol has been implemented. He should be able to move freely without the addition of stasis cuffs of any kind. He should adjust soon enough to the way the program reacts to his systems.”

Bumblebee tilted his helm. “No cuffs? Huh. You hear that, Blitz?” The scout asked, trying to draw Blitzwing out of this terror-stricken haze he was caught in. “You’ll be able to use your servos again. I’d say it’s about time.”

As the sensory net dampener wore off after the passing of a few kliks, Blitzwing pushed himself off of the berth, arms shaky, wide optics scanning the room. He lifted a servo to the back of his neck and winced. His optic landed on the medic, and he grimaced. Hothead found it an optimal time to steal consciousness, feeling the wrongness and fear experienced by Icy running through his core. _Their core_.

“What the frag did you do? What did you do to me?” He yelled, catching the medic off guard. He felt the tug at his arm, and whirled around to see Bumblebee shaking his helm, face reflecting anxiety.

“No, Blitz. Let it go, he was just doing his job,” the scout insisted, encouraging the triple changer to leave it alone. Blitzwing snarled and shook free of Bumblebee momentarily before the scout grabbed him once more. Blitzwing wasn’t aiming to hurt the bot, only to release his hold on him so he could face the medic. The triple changer raised a servo, ready to sock the yellow bot in the side, because he wanted to show that medic how much he _hated_ being reminded of things that were out of his control…

Blitzwng screamed.

“Primus!” Bumblebee reached out for Blitzwing as he gripped his helm, the larger mech’s system rebelling against him, chastising his intended action with a burst of agonizing sensation which lanced through his processor like a blade. “Blitz! What happened?” Bumblebee turned to the medic, who was smirking, and in that instant, the scout hated him. “What did you do?” He asked, anger in his tone. “What the frag did you do?!”

“That,” the red and white doctor said, leaning against one of the many counters lining the room, “Is what happens with noncompliance. Any violence, or intention to hurt, will be corrected by the Safety Program.” The medic chuckled. “Fail to learn, prepare to experience worsening pain. It’s been highly effective thus far, if you couldn’t tell.”

Blitzwing was shaking as his vision swam, disrupted by that overwhelming surge of pain. Coolant dripped from his forehelm. He didn’t know what to think. He heard the medic. He processed the words slowly, letting them roll like rounded pebbles around his shaken CPU. It wasn’t possible, was it? They couldn’t take his free will, they had taken his freedom already, shipped him off, made him aware that he had as many rights as an mechanimal…

It was too much to handle. His vision became dark at the edges, and before Bumblebee was fully aware of what was happening he was being all but dragged down the corridors back to their shared quarters.

~

Blitzwing hadn’t moved in hours. He wouldn’t speak. He refused to refuel, because, well, Bumblebee tried to get a response from the ex-Con, but the resounding silence and lack of movement from the triple changer was answer enough. The only thing hinting that the mech was still alive was the switching of his faces, which was usually not something which Bumblebee could detect, since it was quiet, and typically undetectable. The scout didn’t want to admit it, but he was lonely, and there was an ache in his chest. Guilt ate at his spark when he glanced at Blitzwing’s backplates, his forehelm pressed into a corner of the berthroom. The silence became haunting when Bumblebee’s own demons came to taunt him. He didn’t like to think of wasp...of Blurr...of the rest who passed. He was so young then, so ignorant to the lasting impression death leaves on one’s spark, but now...now he knew.

Realizing that he was potentially a tool in the grand scheme of Optimus’ plan to kiss up to the higher powers of new Cybertron made Bumblebee’s plating prickle with fury. The war was not over, it seemed, even if it technically was in its end stages. It had taken on a sadistic persona, worming its way into the processors of those the scout once respected, making monsters out of them. And yet what was he to do? He was powerless…

Blitzwing was the victim. Bumblebee couldn’t admit it at first. Even in his anger at Optimus, he complied, convincing himself that Blitzwing deserved what was coming to him, even if it was far fetched. Now the triple changer had something implanted within him that was far worse than the virus which wracked his frame during the journey to this soon to be Cybertron. Bumblebee was sure this was not moral (not that Sentinel cared). Bumblebee rubbed his closed optics.

He nearly shouted when he opened them to see the form of the triple changer looming over him. Icy’s visage was tired. He seemed to have come to understand that this was how his life was going to be for the moment. He slid to sit down on one of the stools in the kitchen across from Bumblebee. Silence prevailed, until the scout decided to break the silence.

“I-I’m sorry, Blitzwing. I’m so sorry,” he said, feeling stupid as the words left his mouth. The words wouldn’t changed the fact that the triple changer had a foreign program installed which altered his CPU. Blitzwing’s servo clenched audibly, metal crunching, grinding against the gears within that large fist.

“Of course you are. You. Did. _Nothing_.” Blitzwing spat, pastel blue face contorted in anger and betrayal. Bumblebee felt as though he had been slapped.

“What could I have done? You blame me for things that are out of my control!” He raised his vox, standing up. He felt cold. The guilt seeped into his CPU like a liquid, coating his processor so thoroughly that it left him hollow. “I stood by you, I-I tried to calm you down, I don’t know what you expected! I have self preservation frag it, I’m **selfish** , okay!” The scout yelled, vocalizer glitching out at the end of his rant. He coughed hoarsely into the crook of his arm.

Blitzwing shook his helm. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since I remembered…” the triple changer said surprisingly softly, catching Bumblebee off guard. “My past isn’t a pleasant one. I wouldn’t have minded as much if I wasn’t plagued by vivid memories,” he stated, running his digits across the counter’s surface. “I wasn’t always like this.” Icy’s features were sullen. “I wasn’t always the freak of the Decepticon forces.”

Bumblebee let his shoulders relax. “Do you want to...you know, talk about it?” He asked, unsure if his suggestion would even be considered. Blitzwing looked up at him, optic slightly brighter.

“I would like that very much.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shortness of the chapter. Mostly porn, a little plot.

Blitzwing was fine with the scout walking in his recharge. He knew he was in recharge because of his dimmed optics, his slouched shoulders, and the deep venting that was accompanied by a staggering walk. The first time Bumblebee had done it was early on the triple changer supposed, but he had only noticed recently when the amber mech had made his way into the kitchen and drank a good quantity of spiked energon. Blitzwing hadn’t even remembered acquiring such a commodity, only that Bumblebee had begun to drink it frequently in waking (and in recharge apparently). Afterwards, Bumblebee sat down on his berth and ran a servo gently over his frame. It unnerved the triple changer at first, reminiscing on superstitious ideas which sent chills through his core. There really was no harm in it though. It was comforting, especially after Blitzwing had gone through the Safety Program installment. Eventually, Bumblebee would lie down next to him, his vents warm against Blitzwing’s backplates. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. Touch was what kept him sane on this strange planet, surrounded by mechs who viewed him as worthless.

There was a night cycle which Blitzwing awoke from a deep recharge and found the scout grinding against him, spike fully erect and rubbing up against his plating. No wonder his nighttime recharge fluxes had been so raunchy. He watched the slighter mech move his hips rhythmically against his own pelvic plating, moaning his pleasure in recharge. Blitzwing hummed in approval, reaching down to fondle the cobalt spike. It wasn’t small--smaller than his own, yes, but it held its own. Bumblebee moaned in approval, thrusting into the touch. The scout groaned pointedly and furrowed his brow.

“Tease,” he grumbled. Blitzwing chuckled quietly.

He tightened his grip on the rod, feeling the pulse of energon beneath the surface. Bumblebee opened his mouth and let a small sound escape. Blitzwing couldn’t help himself. He tugged gently at the spike, feeling the throbbing, watching Bumblebee’s facial expressions, absorbing his vocalizations like they were the sweetest of energon. He was enthralled, consumed, and unwilling to leave the golden mech unsatisfied. He could give him what he wanted…

Bumblebee overloaded so hard, he swore his CPU reset. There was a moment of confusion, until he glanced a large servo around his straining spike. He dared to look up, and met a face reflecting his own lust. The scout’s cheeks were flushed with energon, and he laughed awkwardly. “Well hello there.”

Blitzwing rumbled deep within his chassis. “You were irresistible. I must apologize, but I am certain you gained release.” Icy’s faceplates tugged into a slight smile, and Bumblebee felt his spark stutter.

“It felt great, let me tell you. How’d I get over here anyhow?” Bumblebee asked, slurring his words slightly. “Ugh...the fraggin’ room’s spinning again. Hey.” Bumblebee smiled so slyly Blitzwing swore he was a con artist in disguise. “Can I see your valve? I bet it’s pretty.”

Blitzwing was taken aback. He hadn’t been expecting that, Anything but _that_. Wow. He hadn’t expected anyone to be interested. He was large. Large mechs are the spiker, right? That’s how Decepticons did it at least. Mechs (and femmes) craved large, long spikes to fill them up, to take them with a vengeance. Seeing Bumblebee’s spike though...it stirred something within the triple changer. Blitzwing smirked back at the scout.

“Only because you’ve been a sweet little bot. You’re intoxicated again, aren’t you? Come here, _schatz_ ,” Blitzwing hummed, sultry voice smooth in Bumblebee’s audials. Blitzwing retracted his valve cover, and shivered at the cool air against his protomesh. His valve had been covered so long; he truly was not a valve mech. But Bumblebee just wanted to see. 

Bumblebee swayed as he sat upright, cerulean optics glowing unevenly. He glanced down at the exposed valve, violet in tone and glistening in the dim lighting. The scout dared to reach out with a servo and grace the outer folds of the valve, feeling his insides clench in anticipation.

Blitzwing gasped. Such a light touch...no sharp claws tearing at sensitive mesh, no pain...Bumblebee touched him so lightly it felt as though he were worshipping his valve. The amber mech vented heavily, drunkenness affecting his judgement, and he leaned forward.

The triple changer groaned in bliss, although it sounded pained. This...this hadn’t happened. In the Decepticon army, he was the frag toy of those who wanted to dominate, who wanted a freaky con with a wild side that they could tame. No bot had ever put their mouth on his valve before. None had ever blessed his valve with their glossa, running it over sensors and delving between the tight outer folds, reaching deep to touch nodes that were severely neglected. Blitzwing vented hard as Bumblebee hummed.

“Oh Blitzy, I didn’t expect you to be so _small_ ,” Bumblebee said as he rubbed the outer folds with his dexterous digits, exploring this soft, taught valve. “I want to frag you, Blitz...I want you,” the scout looked up at the triple changer. “Is that okay? Are you alright with that? If that’s too far I understand.”

Blitzwing felt strutless. His dermas were numb from his dentae biting down, the sheets were crumpled in his clenched fists, and who was he to deny the smaller mech? This was fragging hot. “Please. Frag me,” Blitzwing rumbled, voice hoarse with lust. “Don’t hold back.” The triple changer let his glossa loll as Bumblebee’s digits spread, opening him up and hitting oh so many sensors deep within his valve. The ex-Con’s back arched as he focused on the pleasure radiating from his interface panel.

Bumblebee withdrew his digits and lined his spike head up with the glistening valve, watching the tip rub against the slit, not quite believing that he was about to frag his former enemy. The scout wasn’t one to tease though; he slid into Blitzwing, smooth and uninterrupted. The triple changer moaned, not quite expecting such a stretch. He looked at Bumblebee, intoxication causing the scout’s optics to be brighter than usual, and wondered how long it had actually been that someone had taken his valve.

“Primus, you’re tight,” Bumblebee breathed, his CPU taking in so many forms of stimulus that it was hard to concentrate on just one. “I don’t know what I expected, but it sure wasn’t for your valve to hug my spike like this.” The scout withdrew his turgid rod and thrust back in, testing the waters. The sounds he got from the triple changer were enough reason to repeat that movement again. Tingles ran up and down the amber bot’s spinal connectors. “You like that, hmmm?”

“W-what do you think, bug?” Blitzwing snapped, but there was no malice behind his words. He felt molten heat pool between his legs where the scout moved his narrow hips, and moaned without hesitation when Bumblebee’s spike hit something deep within him. “Do that...yes, again, don’t stop, Bee,” Blitzwing ordered more than asked, reaching forward to pull the scout closer to him. The triple changer kissed Bumblebee fervently, feeling the tension within his frame becoming focused low in his abdomen where the mech fragging him had picked up the pace.

Bumblebee spiked him hard and fast, loving the way the valve tightened like a vice when he stabbed into it. He listened intently to Blitzwing’s vocalizations, swallowing them with his own dermas, reveling in the way the triple changer pulled at his back plating. He was trapped in a haze, his EM field intermingling with the ex-Con’s, his optics half lidded as he felt himself near overload. Bumblebee felt like he was in limbo, teetering on a tightrope, but soon to fall…

The scout groaned loudly as his overload ripped through his systems, tripping Blitzwing’s own as he felt warmth fill his valve. Bumblebee could feel the power in the way the triple changer’s grip tightened immensely, causing his shoulder plating to dent. The amber mech gasped.

“Yeah, Blitz! Yeah, come on,” Bumblebee growled, rubbing Blitzwing’s chassis as the larger mech trembled in bliss. Then there was silence, save for the hum of their labored venting. Blitzwing panted, knocking a servo playfully against Bumblebee’s chassis, wincing when it resulted in a small flare in his helm. The ex-Con hissed.

“Frag this place. Frag that medic.” He mumbled, letting his helm drop forward in defeat. Bumblebee sighed. He would have thought more quickly of something to say in sympathy if his systems weren’t overtaxed and thrumming with potent energon. In the meantime, he stroked the ridges and divots on the triple changer’s chassis.

“It’s not fair, is it? Sentinel sitting cozy in his plushy berth, probably surrounded by swooning femmes and mechs who pretend to like him for his favor,” Bumblebee laughed, but couldn’t find any humor in the way Blitzwing’s EM field expressed defeat. “If...if there’s a way to get that program undone, I’ll help you myself.”

Blitzwing grunted.

“That’s drunk you speaking. It’s just talk. Don’t litter my audials with empty promises, bug,” he said, moving so that he could cup his valve before the fluid soaked his berth. Blitzwing pushed passed Bumblebee and made his way into the washroom. The sound of water from the shower roused the scout partially from his haze. He glanced back at the light coming from the bathroom and asked himself if he really could do well on his statement of undoing the program.

He felt the grime on his panels and decided a wash would do his plating good. He steadfastly reminded himself that the war was over, that he had no obligation to Optimus any longer. The scout grimaced.

_I’ll try my best, Blitzwing. It’s the least a mech in my position could do._

~

He had the chance to speak with Optimus today. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. Everything since leaving Earth had been a slag-show, ever since he had seen what they had done to Blitzwing, Bumblebee wondered if the same would be done to him if he were to express noncompliance. _Did Prime know about this? Did he know full well what was going on?_ Just recently, he had recognized the purple aerial Skywarp being led into the medical ward, servos in stasis cuffs. Blitzwing did too, but didn’t slow his pace. He turned his help sharply away from the inevitable implementation of the Safety Program in another mech’s CPU, taking away their freedom of choice, their will to fight. It was so wrong, all of it; the only thing which felt right anymore was the presence of the amber mech who was obliged to follow him everywhere. In Bumblebee’s presence, Blitzwing took more than a liking, although he was not about to admit it to the bot. He would not be positioned with another mech, possibly a less amiable one; out of all of the fragged up things that had happened, the scout had considered his well being. It was enough.

Stepping up to one of the rooms off of the silent hallway was strange. Sentinel had ordered him to attend this viewing with Optimus alone. Bumblebee felt a strange twinge at that, feeling vulnerability creep into Blitzwing’s EM field before it was quickly repressed.

Bumblebee entered the dark room and scanned it for other EM fields. He was alone. The scout felt along the blocky furniture and took a seat in front of the large screen set into the wall. He squinted as the surface lighted up, bathing him in semi-fractured light. The connection wasn’t the clearest, but Bumblebee assumed it would be like that. It’s a miracle there was any this far from Earth.

“Bumblebee,” Optimus’ deep voice pierced the empty room. “Can you hear me?”

Bumblebee shielded his optics against the piercing light. _Is there a brightness level adjustment on this thing?_ He might as well have just ended the call then. Seeing Prime’s stupid face made his spark waver in its casing. The mech who sent him away, who made no time for goodbyes before departure, who didn’t care what they were doing here…

“Yes. I can.” Bumblebee said flatly. “What is pressing enough to make contact?”

“Am I not obligated to check on one of my team?” Optimus asked, vox tainted with a hint of hurt. Bumblebee frowned.

“Well. Here I am,” the scout said, throwing up his servos. “I’m alive. I can’t say I’m well. But that doesn’t even compare…” he chuckled humorlessly “....what you are doing to the ex-Decepticons. This is not right.” Bumblebee said with anger in his tone.

“What we are doing is necessary to re-establishing a functional society,” Optimus stated, azure optics piercing. Bumblebee clenched his servos tightly.

“Do you know what they are doing?” Bumblebee hissed. “Are you aware of the immorality of this ‘Safety Program’? This is wrong in every way I can think of, and more than that, you were better than this Prime!” Bumblebee yelled. There was silence for a moment. Optimus sighed.

“Perhaps this assignment was too much for you. I am sorry that you feel this way, but it does not change the fact that this is a necessary step in the process of the rebirth of Cybertron. The mechs that are considered a risk to that society must be contained.”

Bumblebee slammed his fists down on the arms of the chair, denting the metal. “Don’t give me that slag! You didn’t even give him a chance!” The screen’s image distorted and went black. _Screw him...screw his logic!_ Bumblebee swallowed, his throat dry with fury. _Let him fly his aft out here and talk to me face to face. I don’t need this._

He heard Prime call his name as he left the room and headed back to his shared quarters. He didn’t want to hear Optimus preach about how this was okay. He would put a blaster to his helm before he acquiesced.


	6. Chapter 6

Blitzwing eyed the bottle with curiosity. It read something that he didn’t recognize; when was the last time he had read anything out of universal Cybertronian script? _Hah!_ As if he had time for that during the war. He picked up the bright blue liquid-filled bottle, rotating it so that the liquids swished gently from side to side. _Huh. What the Pit is so good about this stuff? Might as well see what’s so appealing about enhanced energon. Bumblebee sure seemed to like it._

The triple changer flicked the cap off of the large container and brought the slender spout to his dermas. He took a large swig and immediately began to cough. _The frag?_ Blitzwing managed to swallow his mammoth gulp but not without burning optics and vents full of the intensely acrid liquid. He set the canister down on the counter and hacked, clearing his vents forcefully. Well, that had been interesting.

The triple changer eyed the large container and considered the flavor behind the sting. It was a good-bad feeling which subsided into a mellow version of what it had been at the start.

_Not bad._

Blitzwing snagged the bottle and made his way back to his berth noticing the slight buzzing in his processor. His helm felt a little bit higher, his frame slightly less coordinated. It was intriguing. He took another hearty swig from the bottle and laughed while he coughed this time, eagerly awaiting the buzz that would be the end result.

~

Bumblebee entered the hab suite in rare form. His drive through the facility’s exercise units hadn’t helped in the way he had hoped. He sulked into the kitchen and threw open the most familiar of the cabinets, just wanting to drive his CPU into the ground before nightfall on this blasted planet. Reaching in, he found his latest obsession missing. His optics widened.

“Wha…?” He peered into the space to find it barren. “Blitzwing!”

He marched into the berthroom to find a scene he was not expecting. Firstly, wow. Blitzwing was sprawled on the berth, looking at him with some seriously seductive optics, gripping his engorged spike in a servo...and there was his enhanced energon on the bed-side stand, completely emptied. Bumblebee was speechless.

“You drank...my energon…” the scout stuttered, anger melting away gradually from his overheated frame. “You drink, Blitzy?” Bumblebee asked, not knowing what else to say. Blitzwing giggled.

“Guess I do know,” Icy’s slurred, face switching over to Hothead. “If the room would stop moving maybe I could focus enough to know if that is actually you!” His visage changed in record time to Random, who cackled, “OooooOh, our berth buddy is back! But I lost my spike somewhere in the last orn. Could you help me find it?”

Bumblebee blinked, watching the disoriented and clearly intoxicated triple changer glance furtively around the space in which they lived. He couldn’t help but let a slight smile overtake his dermas.

“Blitz,” the yellow guard purred, “I found what yer looking for.” And before the ex-Con could comprehend, Bee took the turgid spike and sank down upon it without warning. He swore Blitzwing’s optics crossed in pleasure.

“Bee…” the triple changer hissed, vox dipping in pitch, “You’re tight,” Icy praised, rouge optic focused on the said area where their frames connected. Blitzwing brought his servos up to rub at the amber thighs at his sides, squeeze the metal and watch the way Bee’s face shifted at the touch. The scout’s valve clenched.

“H-hey! Hey you, that tickles. Stop it,” Bumblebee tried to act offended, but failed as Icy’s dermas formed a crooked smile. “You also owe me more engex. I’m completely out, no thanks to you.” Bee rolled his hips forward, grinding down on the triple changer’s spike. Icy moaned out his appreciation and thanked the smaller mech by thrusting upwards. The scout grunted.

“Don’t know where you get tha’ stuff from,” Blitzwing stated, creating a rhythm of thrusting and grinding into the tightening passage between the yellow bot’s thighs, “Show me where and I will gladly, hmm, replace it.” He caught Bumblebee’s dermas and kissed him deeply, feeling electricity shoot up his spinal connectors. The scout responded eagerly, never knowing that the triple changer’s dermas could taste this divine with the flavor of engex on his glossa. He was going to continue this, whatever this was between him and Blitzy, because it would too good to lose. Being alone, stranded in the depths of space in this fragged up situation, Bumblebee had never felt more appreciated...and that was strange.

“Come on, Blitzbrain. Frag me like ya mean it. I won’t break big guy,” the scout ran his servos over the shining, coolant coated chassis in front of him. “Take me like...like you were still a Decepticon…” Bee said huskily, watching as Icy’s rouge optic focused as intently as it could on his face, “And you found me in the forest, servo shoved deep into my valve, self-servicing to _you_ ” the amber mech smiled deviously as Blitzwing’s rhythm stuttered. The ex-Con growled, and flipped their positions in a fluid motion. Bumblebee grunted as his backplates hit the berth.

“You want a big, bad Con plowing into you, huh?” Icy whispered in his audial. A chill ran up Bumblebee’s spinal connectors. “You think you can take what I have to give, small mech? A spike like mine can tear something if I’m not careful,” to punctuate that, Icy rolled his hips, pushing his turgid member deep within the supine mech below him. Bumblebee moaned and clutched at Blitzwing. “That is...rather **hot** ,” the triple changer admitted. Their cooling fans roared, but there was no way their frames were becoming any less heated now.

“Come on, Blitz. You’re driving me crazy,” Bee admitted, encouraging the mech above him to move. The triple changer did not need much coaxing. Engex flowed through his CPU, a toxic elixir erasing any doubts that this situation could go wrong in any way whatsoever. All he could focus on was how he felt and how strong the sensations were deep within his core pressing him to frag Bumblebee so hard into the berth he wouldn’t be able to feel his lower half.

“As you wish,” Blitzwing said, voice hoarse with lust. The triple changer began a harsh pace that sent Bumblebee’s processor spinning. He grasped onto the larger’s mechs extremely broad shoulders and tried to withhold the loud sounds which threatened to escape his frame. This is what he had asked for and wow, was it worth it; Bumblebee panted as Blitzwing moved, pistoning in and out of his frame with vigor the amber mech could have only imagined. The triple changer had been so gentle with him thus far and it sent a fleeting sense of fear through his spark, but that only made his arousal that much more potent.

“F-frag yeah, Blitzy, frag me, y-yes! _Fucking_ strong mech, I want to feel you deeper, hah, **harder** ,” Bee’s snarl only made the triple changer more eager, more willing to try and impress the bot underneath him. Blitzwing gasped as coolant dripped down his faceplates, determined to show the scout that he could hold out for as long as he needed. The triple changer was invigorated by his intoxication and want for the amber bot’s approval.

“Of course, _schatz_ ,” Blitzwing responded, optics bright. His CPU was distorted, yet focused, settled yet highly alert. The triple changer’s vision seemed to separate into reality and hallucinations. Figures danced across his vision, shadows flitted from the outer periphery of his vision, disappearing when he blinked his singular normal optic. _What the…_

_“Blitzwing? Blitzwing,” a vox called to him, and he shook his helm. Bumblebee was the center of his focus at the moment, nothing else mattered. His partner was--_

_Gone._

_The triple changer’s vents stalled as he recalled being tied down, the mech he once called leader deducting the changes that he had demanded be made to Blitzwing’s form._

_Impossible._

_And then he heard pained sounds...but they were not his own, which boggled his processor. That was not the way this went, but the sounds persisted, more firmly._

_“Blitzwing, you’re hurting me! Gahh, s-stop!”_

In an instant, Blitzwing’s helm exploded with pain, as did his chassis as he was sent back, grunting ass his backplates collided with the cold, hard floor of their shared berthroom. His softening spike was tribute to how recently he had been deep within the scout who was now looming over him, pained expression coming into view as Blitzwing’s vision cleared. The hallucination evaporated before his optics.

“What...how did…” Icy’s vox pierced the air, uncertain and strained.

“Primus, you went a little wild there, Blitz.” Bee hissed and looked down at his servo which reflected the energon coming from his valve. Blitzwing’s optic widened.

“I hurt you.”

“It’s minor. Just a tear in the valve, it’s not a big deal.” Bumblebee moved to approach the triple changer whose facade had changed to that of horror. With a grace Bumblebee had not seen exhibited by the ex-Con, he was up on his pedes and moving away from him. “No, Blitz, wait, let’s talk a klik.”

Blitzwing shook his helm and vented heavily. He turned away from the scout and stumbled in any direction away from the berth room. He didn’t know what to say, what to do...he felt isolated. He knew they amber mech had only said this to placate him from doing more potential damage. Bumblebee was probably disgusted with him. _Way to go_ the triple changer thought solemnly, _Your only friend will now leave you because you couldn’t be stable for once._

“There is nothing to discuss,” Blitzwing commented, trying to steady his vocals. “I am sorry, Bumblebee. I am truly, truly sorry. Please just…” the triple changer took a deep in-vent, and buried his face in his servos.

Now he had done it.

“Blitzwing. Come here.” Bumblebee stated. The triple changer did not move. “I am not upset. I am the one who asked you to be rough. I wanted you to go harder, I...I guess I didn’t know my own limits.” He chuckled. “You don’t need to do this.”

It was the scout realized the ex-Con was crying. It was a nearly silent, mournful sound which hit Bumblebee right in the spark. The throb in between his thighs seemed small in comparison to the sorrowful EM field which emanated from the triple changer. Blitzwing was so overcome by emotion...so vulnerable…

“Blitz,” Bumblebee said in a hushed tone. The scout walked forward to the quivering silhouetted and wrapped his arms as far around his back as he could. It was an awkward feat--the larger mech’s wings really had nowhere to go besides out, and their weight pressed against Bumblebee’s slighter frame. “It’s okay. Come back to the berth, will ya? It was an accident, you just kind of...glitched for a klik. It happens to all of us. Engex is a powerful substance.”

Blitzwing whimpered, Icy’s vox piercing the air, unsteadily. “Leave me alone. I’ll frag things up again, worse this time,” Icy pleaded, attempting to dislodge the comforting servos from his midriff.

“No.” Bee growled. “Listen to me and stop being so Primus fraggin’ stubborn. No bot wants to be left, especially not you. Come with me, or deal with me buggin’ you all night cycle.” The scout squeezed the triple changer. “Come on, Blitz.”

The larger mech ceased to respond, but allowed himself to be guided back to the berthroom. His optics swam with the intensity of the engex and the tumultuous emotions threatening to burst from his chassis.

Without warning, he purged. At least Bumblebee was at his backplates. There was one thing the ex-Con could be thankful for.

~

Sentinel scowled as he listened to the security officer blab about what he had seen earlier. The yellow scout and the prisoner… _fragging_. His processor recoiled at the notion. He suspected Bumblebee was a rebel, but this...this was something the blue and orange officer had not expected to see.

“How long?” Sentinel Prime asked, dentae grinding in thought as he watched the video feed. He denied any sense of arousal, although his panel felt warm as he watched the triple changer’s large spike impale the scout. It was against protocol, after all. Nothing would be ignored, especially not something of this severity. If Bumblebee wanted to be a slut for the ex-Cons, so be it. Sentinel would find a fitting punishment for the scout, he decided there and then.

“This is troubling news,” Sentinel Prime stated, stroking his prominent chin. “Contact Optimus Prime promptly. I’ll have a word with him tonight concerning this event. Please, keep up the good work.”

The Prime clapped a servo on the security officer’s shoulder reassuringly, and headed for the doorway. He had a plan to enact, and there was only one mech who would need a little convincing. It wouldn’t be too difficult though. After all, Optimus had developed a soft spot for Sentinel.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Update will be posted on **Aug. 10** (if not sooner). I had a mean flu and therefor feel it necessary to push the posting date back slightly. As always, thanks for the patience and understanding! _OptimalSagacity_

Blitzwing groaned in agony as he onlined. His optics squinted against the blue hue filtering through the window. His helm felt as though it had been clobbered by something that packed a hefty punch. Not to mention his fuselage tanks churned in clear upset.

“Were we hit by the Punch again? I’ve always told him not to use the Punch while we were close,” Random whined despairingly, rubbing his dark forehelm. “Oh wait...we offlined him megacycles ago…” a chuckle was cut off by another groan as his dominant Icy persona took over, clutching at his abdominal plating. “I regret my decision to empty your engex, bug.”

Bumblebee sleepily turned his helm to glance at the larger mech at his side. He sighed.

“Welcome to the after effects of a Pit of a lot of engex. That was excessive, even for your frame, Blitz.” Bumblebee sat up and wiped the remnants of recharge from his optics. “You might need to head to the washroom. Trust me.”

Icy shook his helm weakly. “No...no moving. Just let me lay here…” Blitzwing buried his faceplates into the berth. Everything was swimming in front of the triple changer’s optics and his limbs felt as though they were bolted to the berth. He groaned. “Frag engex.”

Bumblebee rubbed a comforting servo over Blitzwing’s helm for a few moments, until he heard tell tale clicks of the door locks disengaging. The scout bolted upright from the berth and was on his peds in a nanoklik. _Who the frag--_?

Sentinel Prime strode into the suite confidently, and caught sight of Bumblebee in an instant. “Ah. Just the bot I was looking for. Recharge well?” A smile that made the scout’s internals twist graced Sentinel’s dermas.

“Fine. There’s a little thing called knocking you know.” Bumblebee stated, unimpressed at his superior’s unannounced visit. Blitzwing raised him helm to glance at blue and orange mech as well, a look of annoyance gracing his faceplates. “This was a day with no plans outlined. What is it you want, sir?”

“We have some things to discuss. There are matters which need to be addressed. Come with me to my office,” Sentinel said, no evidence of the smile lingering any longer. Begrudgingly, the amber bot held his glossa. Bumblebee glanced back at Blitzwing, and then back at Sentinel.

“Yes sir,” the scout said flatly, wondering what the mech was getting at. What did they have to discuss? It wasn’t like Bumblebee had infringed upon any of the clearly outlined and entirely unnecessary rules laid out by his perfectionist superior.

Without saying another word, Bumblebee followed Sentinel through the network of halls to the office which he had come to dislike immensely. Sentinel Prime unlocked the door, and beckoned him to enter first. Bumblebee obliged, turning around instantly to ask something which had seemed important, but became trivial once the scout realized the Prime had not entered his office with him. He had closed the door and...and locked him inside!

“Hey, wait, what the Pit? Sentinel,” Bumblebee barked, banging on the door, “I thought we were going to discuss something important! Come on!” The amber bot growled. His bravado completely left him when he heard a vox behind him. It made his emergon run cold.

“Bumblebee.” Optimus stated calmly, though to Bee it was equivalent to thunder in his audials. The scout turned to see the blue and red mech himself, along with both Jazz and Prowl flanking him. Bumblebee’s azure optics widened and his vents caught.

“W-what? How did you--?” The yellow bot muttered, glossa basically useless as he stumbled over his words. “When did you get here?” Bumblebee’s spark felt as though it would collapse at the shock of seeing the mechs in front of him. He could imagine how much Optimus appreciated his walking out on their discussion the last time they had spoken, albeit through video feeds worlds away.

“We arrived here three solar cycles ago. I was alerted that concerns have made themselves known,” Optimus commented, eyeing his former subordinate. The time they had been apart, Bumblebee’s frame had filled out. The scout had also gained height, not to mention his faceplates had changed noticeably. It was strange to see Bumblebee now, considering he was so young when this war had begun. Coming out of it though, the amber mech was an adult, no doubt about it. His cerulean optics were hardened, yet still bright, and his optic ridges had furrowed enough that there was a mark chiselled there between them. The Prime pulled himself back into focus and frowned. “It is no secret that your affairs with Blitzwing are not professional in the least. So what is the extent of it? You tell me.”

Bumblebee’s jaw nearly dropped. Well, that was not what he had expected. Not at all. Yet, there was not a worse way he could think of this meeting going. This was rock bottom. His vox caught, and the scout cleared his throat.

“First of all, what the **frag**? What happened to privacy in any of these Primus forsaken quarters in this place?” Bumblebee felt sick. The way Prowl and Jazz looked at him, their faceplates void of emotion, yet he knew...they were silently judging him. They would never stray from Optimus. In their optics, he was automatically in the right. “S-so what, Sentinel has been watching us frag? Is that it? Has the sicko been getting off on it? Never knew he was such a voyeur,” Bumblebee sneered. Optimus’ fist slammed against Sentinel Prime’s desk.

“Enough.” Bumblebee fell silent, but the fire in his optics remained. “I am disappointed in you. I entrusted you with this mission, and so far all I see that has come out of it is the evidence that your maturity is far less than I expected.”

 _Ouch_. Bumblebee grimaced. “So let me get this straight. I am supposed to be ejected into deep space, keep to myself, and refrain from becoming close to the mech I spend all hours of my waking and recharging cycles with? For what reason was I your best choice for this? I refuse to believe that there was no better mech than myself for this mission. There was no briefing whatsoever, there was no warning; I showed interest in Blitzwing’s situation because that is what you instilled in us Optimus! Empathy even towards your worst enemies. But now…” Bumblebee’s shoulders bristled with electricity, his anger bubbling forth, “I don’t know who you are. The Prime I knew wouldn’t have detained nonviolent bots the way Sentinel has done, and yet you agree with him!”

“It is what has to be done to ensure our own safety, it is not always about the way we feel things should be handled, but rather the most rational way. Until the ex-Decepticons can prove that there is no ill intent on their behalf, then the Safety Protocols will be upkept. This is about you, not the programs; what do I do at this point? You have obviously developed feelings for Blitzwing.” Bumblebee’s optic ridges narrowed, but he balked at the admission from Optimus. “Put yourself in my pedes for a moment; how would you proceed with this information? It is unprofessional and ultimately detrimental.”

“There are no feelings involved. Does there have to be?” The scout asked, scowl plastered on his faceplates. “You assume me to be emotionally driven, or maybe Sentinel does. The reality is that you have both misjudged me. Why does it matter what I do on my freetime? Have I proved to be disloyal? Tell me that much.” Bumblebee’s spark twinged at the thought of Blitzwing being tossed aside as a fling...it seemed wrong even as he said it. But that is all it was, right? They were lonely, separated from everything that was familiar to them, starved for comfort…

Optimus Prime rubbed his forehelm in exasperation. “For all intents and purposes, it is best for you not to get attached to any ex-Con here. If that is all it is, then so be it. You need to understand that all of this that we are doing has a purpose. Sentinel Prime and the High Council have divulged plans that we must follow, and frankly, I don’t see an intimate relationship being a good thing no matter how you look at it.”

Bumblebee wilted slightly, but did not show it outwardly. “So...that’s it? That is what you have come here to do, huh? Bots I fought beside, stood by, spent eons with, only here to rub my faceplates in all that I have done wrong? What are you guys now, his turbohounds? You have nothing to say?” He beckoned to Prowl and Jazz, who had since been as still as unoccupied puppets. Bumblebee’s vox caught in his throat, and he fought against the coolant threatening to well in his optics. “Jazz? Prowl? Come on.” The scout’s voice became quieter.

Jazz broke the silence. “I cannot do this, Optimus. I can’t.” He threw up his servos. “I am not disappointed in you, Bee. We’ve missed you. I don’t think you’ve fragged up, I just...don’t know if you should be getting that close to an ex-Con. It’s so soon, you know? There’s still tension, you don’t know if Blitzwing’s holding back, or if the protocol implementation is working to do so. I would be especially wary of him, being as unpredictable as he is,” Jazz nearly growled out. Bumblebee cut in.

“I appreciate that you miss me. I miss you too...and the others. I think you need to rethink the programs being implemented long term. That’s my concern here. Blitzwing is no Starscream.” The scout pointed out, optics reflecting nothing but sincerity. “I need a say somewhere. I am part of your team, not of Sentinel’s; I don’t care if I’m out here or with you guys, I need support and I need your trust. I don’t know what happened, Optimus.” Bee said dryly. “But there needs to be a voice of reason somewhere. This cannot get out of our servos.”

“And I will not let it. I see how this could have been interpreted, Bumblebee. I apologize. There have been complications in the discussions between both Decepticon and Autobots...it is something that I must remember that here is not there. There are some mechs who have refused the peace talks.”

“Starscream has been recruiting others to join him from an indeterminate location,” Prowl said sternly. “Shockwave has reluctantly joined us to uncover his whereabouts, but he for one has been determined to be an active participant in the peace talk efforts.”

“I see.” Bumblebee responded, contemplating the issues this would pose. “This does not change my opinions on Blitzwing, nor the others who willingly give themselves up. Skywarp and Thundercracker on the other servo, maybe not. Their loyalties probably lie with Starscream even now. There needs to be certain measures taken to ascertain those with the Safety Protocol installed will not be put into situations which are cruel or abusive.”

“Agreed.” Prowl stated with certainty.

“It will definitely be a point of interest to discuss with the High Council,” Optimus followed. “Bumblebee. We are not abandoning you. You do understand this, correct? This is not permanent.”

The scout nodded. “Yes sir. I understand.”

~

Blitzwing let the rivulets of water flow over his plating and pressed his helm against one side of the wash rack. All he could comprehend at the moment was the pounding pressure in his helm and the heaviness in the rest of his frame. He felt so ill. He swore he would never touch engex again if this is how it made him feel. He took a deep invent and exhaled causing steam to billow around the sterile space.

His CPU found a way to include Bumblebee in his wandering thoughts which were not consumed with the agony his processor was in. The bot had been gone a while. Maybe there was something pressing, or exciting which the scout would bring back to him. That would be a change in pace on this so far trying solar cycle. It could possibly be that Sentinel had some odd job which he himself did not want to complete himself; summoning Bee to do it seemed like a Sentinel Prime thing to do. _Son of a glitch_ the triple changer thought to himself, lathering his broad chest in cleanser.

Blitzwing perked up slightly as he recognized the sound of the door lock disengaging. Bumblebee was back. The triple changer let the heavy stream of hot water flow over him, washing away the suds from all parts of his detailed frame. He dried himself off, ignoring the pounding ache in his helm, and made his way out to greet his roommate. His spark felt a little lighter at the thought of Bee. He did not overanalyze it. These were thoughts for a later time.

“Back so soon?” Icy’s vox was somewhere between monotonous and cheery; Bumblebee couldn’t decide. “You missed so much! Can’t you see it’s been a party here without you?” Random’s mouth spread into a grin which was much too large, mono-optic strip squinted in mirth. Bee chuckled lightly.

“Oh yeah. Real party huh? How’s the hangover treating you, Blitzbrain?” The scout teased, flopping down onto a berth. Blitzwing’s Hothead persona was quick to take over, scowl already in place as the triple changer’s faces switched.

“That is not my name, bug. You haven’t used that for a while and I thought I had heard the end of it! Don’t be a smart aft!” Blitzwing clenched a servo into a fist, before cycling back to his Icy persona and putting a servo to his helm. “Scheisse,” the triple changer cursed, a burst of pain reminding him just how his morning had gone thus far.

“It fits you though,” Bumblebee smirked, before considering for a moment. “Or I guess it did a while back. It’s gone a little stale though. I’ll have to come up with a new nickname for ya.” Bee winked at the larger mech shuffling over to the berths. Blitzwing sat down across from him on the opposite berth, clutching his smarting helm.

“Yah, yah...how do you drink so much of that stuff and still function?” Icy’s nasal ridge crinked as he snarled in pain, pressing against his temples with intent to massage away the nagging feelings. “I’m at a loss.”

“Firstly, I’m not a first timer with engex. Secondly, I don’t drown myself in it. You chugged it as far as I’m concerned, and that is **not** what I would have told ya to do if I knew you wanted to partake.” Bumblebee stretched his back struts. “Also, uh, I know a few things when it comes to curing helm pain. Mind if I demonstrate?”

Blitzwing’s spark shifted in its casing, causing his vents to catch. He glanced at the scout, whose face looked all too genuine. “No. Please show me.”

“Alright,” Bee smiled, and slid off his berth to accompany the ailing triple changer. “Here, put your helm **here** ,” the amber mech said, situating Blitzwing’s helm between his thighs, where it was supported just enough. Icy’s dermas pulled into a frown momentarily. “Heh, sorry. I know it feels like slag, doesn’t it? Just relax as best you can.”

“Easy for you to say,” Blitzwing muttered, dimming his optics slightly. He let his arms rest at his sides and his legs went lax. He took a deep invent and exhaled loudly as Bumblebee’s digits touched the sides of his helm lightly. He furrowed his optic ridges, expecting pain as they trailed over his forehelm, pressing carefully but firmly into the smooth metal flesh, but none ever came. Instead only relief followed the digits moving in careful, circular motions over the triple changer’s skin. Blitzwing sighed.

“See what I mean? I know what I’m talking about.” Bumblebee beamed, for once feeling happy in what seemed like an eon. It was strange, considering he usually turned to engex to zone out after a solar cycle filled with Sentinel’s orders filling his audials, but right now he didn’t crave it like he usually did. Seeing Blitzwing’s large frame sprawled out over the berth, his helm resting in his lap, it felt oddly peaceful. Serene even. He considered the first time he had Blitzwing this close to him, and how different it had felt during the flight to this strange planet. But now…

The scout swallowed hard, considering the feeling in his abdomen which was not a result of hunger or anything else he could possibly wave off. He felt something for Blitzwing. That something was an idea which he usually didn’t mull over, but right now there was no reason for it to be ignored. Bumblebee liked the mech. He liked him a lot, and that was worrying, considering he had basically just lied to Optimus. There wasn’t an absence of feeling when he had fragged Blitzwing. There was no denying that it was not only physical, but to go there was dangerous territory. _Primus...this is going to get complicated._

“You weren’t kidding, Bee,” Blitzwing said, vox laced with evidence that the massage was greatly appreciated. “This is working wonders. Where did you learn to do this?”

Bumblebee worked at releasing tension in the triple changer’s temples, using just the right amount of pressure. “A buddy on my team named Prowl taught me a lot of things about the Cybertronian frame. He was a real nerd when it came to getting in tune with your CPU and frame, but I gotta say he knew what he was talking about. When I’d have too much engex, he would help me out. Taught me where to press, talked to me about why, and I guess after having it done so many times and listening to him go on and on about ninja things I caught on.” The scout shrugged. “He’s a pretty cool bot. Needs to lighten up a but sometimes, but a good mech in general.”

“Mmm, I see,” Blitzwing hummed in relief, letting his optics dim entirely. “It is strange to me that your faction mates were so very...kind. It is a strange concept to consider for me.” Icy’s expression turned terse for a moment before relaxing once more. “I wish I could have seen it...the Autobot interactions for myself, but from the inside. If I had known from the start the mess that this would all turn out to be, I would have chosen a different path, I think.”

“You...you do? No kidding?” Bumblebee quirked an optic ridge.

“I am very serious,” Blitzwing stated, no evidence humor in his tone. “I have considered what it would have been like to have chosen differently now that all has come to a close. How it all could have turned out…”

“I can understand that. You would have liked team Prime, ya really would have, Blitz. The way the Cons talked about us, it made us sound weak, but really we held our own.”

“You did,” the triple changer agreed. “Although at times, I fully believed that the Autobots lacked strength because of the dynamic and inner workings of their team...I have been proven wrong.” Blitzwing hissed, and Bumblebee paused.

“Sorry, that was my bad. I was a little rough there...here,” the scout smoothed the area gently, relieving any discomfort he had caused. “I’ll give you a pause here for a moment. Uh, so, there was something I wanted to mention.”

“Go on.” Blitzwing sat up slowly, his rouge optics flickering to life once more.

“Starscream is pulling together allies. During the meeting I was told that some Cons have evaded peace talks altogether and are probably planning to make a move sooner than later, I assume.”

“Frag that seeker,” Blitzwing growled. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from him. It doesn’t surprise me.”

“I felt like he was up to something out there, wherever the slagger is. It’s not like he’s got endless resources though. He’ll have to come out of hiding eventually.” Bumblebee sighed. “I wish the war could just snuff out like it was supposed to. Just wanted it to fraggin’ die already.”

“That is wishful thinking. Too simple,” Icy said flatly. “The death of Megatron was one problem solved, but no one accounted for the infighting, especially within the Decepticons. Starscream always had it out to take over, so the shock of him trying to revive the cause does not move me in the slightest.”

“I guess I just thought his cowardly tendencies would win over. Maybe they will. He’s doesn’t come off as a bot to head an army.” Blitzwing chuckled dryly at that.

“No, he does not. He might be intelligent, but bravery is not a word in his vocabulary.” Blitzwong frowned. “I wonder at times how many Cybertronians have found worthy planets elsewhere in the solar system to inhabit...the ones who avoided the war that is. Sometimes I wish I had not been so hasty. Megatron had a way with words. I stupidly decided quickly that Decepticon ideals aligned with my own. Loneliness and despair seem to be the only consequences of this war, so Megatron’s fantastic speeches have fallen, just as the cities which once stood on Cybertron have. It was all for none.”

“It does seem that way, doesn’t it? We destroyed so much, and for what? Some slag that involved the leaders of our factions and the High Council.” Bumblebee felt hollow as he thought of all of the wasted time which had been spent fighting. Where would he have been now if not for all of this? He imagined the possibility of Cybertron flourishing, the academies which he might have attended, the occupations which he had only heard about and had never witnessed for himself. The war had stolen that from him, among so many other things. “Anyway, about that massage. Would you like me to finish?”

“Is that even a question?” Blitzwing inquired as he leaned back into the scout’s lap. “It is too bad that I did not know you sooner, Bumblebee. It feels as if I have...or maybe I’m sounding a bit crazy.”

“No, I know what you mean. It’s not too out there, Blitz. If only,” Bee said calmly, letting himself zone out as he pressed gently into the triple changer’s sensitive helm. _If only._


	8. Chapter 8

Sentinel Prime was not in good spirits and it was glaringly obvious to any passersby. His shoulder plating was flared, his optics narrowed to slits. He did not care if anybot saw him in this state. All he was focused on was finding Optimus and asking him who he thought he was, coming into his territory and failing to address the issues which he had specifically outlined. He should have known the Autobot leader wouldn’t follow up on his promise to handle the current situation with his scout and the ex-Con, but no, not even such a simple task could be entrusted to Optimus, the peace-maker, the coddling slagger.

Sentinel’s heavy servo made contact with Optimus’ hab suite, and it took only a nanoklik for it to unlock and retract. There was the Prime, tablet in servos, face so passive (and punchable in Sentinel’s opinion). The blue and orange mech wasted no time marching his way into the space and glaring at his rival.

“I thought I brought you here to handle things for me, not dismiss them as if they were nothing,” Sentinel Prime growled. Optimus shuttered his optics and frowned slightly.

“It was handled. Why do you say it hasn’t been? Has Bumblebee been involved in more than you told me in the briefing?”

Sentinel scoffed. “No, but that doesn’t mean that you should have let him off like that! This could be a massive offense if the Council gets wind of it--!”

“He is an **ex** -Decepticon, Sentinel! Bumblebee has committed no crime outlined by you or the High Council. Lower your tone with me, I did not come here to have a yelling match with you,” the Autobot leader stood and spat right back at Sentinel.

“It is wrong and disorderly conduct!” Sentinel ceased to lower his voice, only becoming more angered by Optimus’ response. “Can’t you see that even the resigned Cons are still untrustworthy? How do you know that your scout wouldn’t start collaborating with his assigned prisoner, huh?”

“If you’re suggesting Bumblebee would turn against his team and the Autobot cause, think again Sentinel. I know my bots. I know none of my team would do such a thing. I am finished with this discussion. I talked with him and I know that he has good intentions. Whether you believe that or not is not my problem.” Optimus held Sentinel’s gaze. “Please, see your way out, Sentinel.”

“I am not finished speaking on this topic, Optimus.” Sentinel stated, displeasure written all over his faceplates. When the doors to his suite shut, Optimus took a deep in-vent and sighed.

_Bumblebee was right when he commented on the lack of privacy here…_

~

The feeling of the ground was not quite like the terrain of earth. It was velvety in certain areas where there appeared to be sand, but as Bumblebee’s pede pressed against it, it was dense, and not rough as the earth’s sands had been. He clutched the datapad in his servos as he strode through the unfamiliar land, Blitzwing close behind him. The triple changer had not spoken much at all this solar cycle, instead choosing to lose himself in the strangeness around them. The outing, although technically work, was more of a relief to the scout than anything. He had begun to go stir crazy in the base.

Bumblebee snapped a photo of a brightly marked flora which grew from a crevice in a towering structure resembling the canyons and cliffs earth contained. Some part of the amber mech wanted to touch it, but he restrained from doing so, deciding it was not worth the risk. He captured the area around them, and marked the cliff’s surface with a device that would notify Sentinel Prime of the area later on.

A deep sigh emanated from Blitzwing’s vents, rustling the seemingly fragile vines hanging from the taller of the forest’s vegetation. It was all so foreign to Bumblebee, and looking at Blitzwing’s frame surrounded by all of this new world’s life was enchanting in a way. He gave into his awe momentarily, and he must have been staring, because Blitzwing’s larger optic cycled down into a pinprick while his normal one narrowed.

“What is it? Do I have something on my faceplates?” Icy’s vox broke the scout’s trance, and Bumblebee felt energon rush to his throat cables and face.

“No, it is nothing. I-I thought I saw something in the distance behind you,” Bee stated quickly, acting busy with the datapad. “We should keep moving. I want to go further north.”

“You do have this mapped out, yes?” Blitzwing asked, noting the density of the space around them. The scout huffed.

“Of course I do. That’s what all these are for.” Bumblebee pointed with his thumb back at the pulsing location device on the cliff side. The flora blew in the breeze which had begun to pick up, making them appear sentient, swaying towards the device as if to back up Bee’s claim. “Trust me, Blitz. Come on.”

Blitzwing grunted in response. The triple changer was not feeling talkative; he felt on edge and quiet seemed to quell some of the feeling. He felt more alert when he could detect sounds in the far distance. His CPU calculated the risk of being watched by creatures which they had not yet come face to face with, and it was high. If there was flora, there would be advanced life. Any assumption otherwise was naive.

The light around them altered in intensity throughout the solar cycle, changing from blue into a hazy violet as the planet’s evening neared. They had found a source of water cutting through the landscape at some point, as well as a larger pool underneath a high waterfall. The terrain had Blitzwing’s sensors working on overtime, especially as certain paths through the forest neared steep drops. Blitzwing cursed the operation early on removing his T-Cog. A fall like this would carry the risk of serious injury. A chill ran up the triple changer’s spinal connectors.

“When are we heading back, Bumblebee? It will be dark soon. There is no point lingering when we will be doing the same work tomorrow,” Blitzwing pointed out, rubbing at neck which had become sore from ducking under the low-hanging vines, which would become tangled in his plating otherwise.

Bee shrugged. “We can head back. Just let me pull up this solar cycle’s history.” The scout scanned their progress for the day, when he realized he had missed a key aspect of the way the system worked. The information was relayed back to Sentinel Prime’s storage at the base, not the datapad itself. The machine in Bee’s servos was only a source of transmission. He had severely overestimated the device’s abilities. _Fuck_.

“Well?” Blitzwing asked as he watched the shift in the smaller mech’s expression. A twinge of worry began to gnaw at the ex-Con’s processor. Bumblebee swallowed roughly as he tested the communications line between himself and Sentinel Prime. He then tried Optimus’ line with no avail. He then reached out for any mech within range, and the only one he found in range was looking at him with narrowed optics. He faced Hothead glaring at him with an intensity the scout was unused to.

“So...it turns out the location units weren’t actually meant to supply us any feedback...they were being logged on Sentinel’s end, but not necessarily our end…” Bumblebee trailed off, noticing the twitch in Blitzwing’s optics. “We can retrace our steps?”

A large pointer digit hit the scout between the optics as Hothead’s vox pierced the air. “You lied about knowing exactly what the devices were used for, _insect_! Your foolishness has left us lost on a strange planet and because of your inattention to detail, I have to suffer!” Blitzwing’s face cycled to Icy, who looked no more pleased than his fuming, previously present counterpart. “You are so assured that you would not check for our sake that the devices could track our location--what is the matter with you? Has engex made you a moron?”

“It was an accident! Come on, I had no clue about devices, or the fact communication lines would be null and void out here! Cut me some slack, will ya? I can’t hear myself think!”

Blitzwing’s optics widened. “No...no comm. lines work here? You are being a little slag, Bumblebee, call them. **Now** ,” Icy’s vox darkened considerably, and the scout might have found it hot if it weren’t used in this exact circumstance where he was faced with a seething triple changer.

“I tried. There was nothing. I swear,” Bumblebee held up his servos, as if his palms could prove his honesty. “I’m an idiot, Blitz, but I can get us out of here.”

In the next moment, Blitzwing turned and in the blink of an optic put his clenched servo clean through one of the towering tree-like inhabitants of the forest, causing a resonating ‘crack’. It was quick enough to make Bumblebee flinch. For once the scout appreciated the lethal nature of the triple changer as the tree resembling object fell, shaking the ground beneath his pedes as it connected with the forest floor.

 _Well shit_ , was Bee’s only thought as he watched Blitzwing’s backplates as he walked steadily in the direction which they had come from. He sighed and followed the large mech at a distance, just in case the triple changer decided to down any more large vegetation.

It was a smart idea not to get in Blitzwing’s way. So much for not touching anything, because the triple changer had paid no mind to keeping his servos to himself. Vines on his chest? Blitzwing ripped them from their source, causing the writhing mass to pile messily onto the forest floor. Thick, fallen flora? Icy grunted as he forced a pede harshly through the dense trunks, causing them to splinter and split. The matter was, as the sky around them darkened, nothing looked familiar. The objects surrounding them appeared the same. Strange sounds began to occur at different intervals and it made Bumblebee’s plating crawl with anxiety.

He wanted to call it quits and hole up wherever they could.

“Blitzwing,” the scout called out, not wanting to misplace the bot, “We are not going to find the base tonight. We need to find shelter.”

“What do you think I am doing?” Blitzwing growled out, not even offering a glance in the scout’s direction. Bumblebee huffed.

“I’m serious. I don’t like the feel of it out here at night. We should find somewhere covered,” Bee stated more loudly, catching up to the lengthy strides of the other mech. Blitzwing scowled.

“What do you know?” Icy bit out. Bumblebee felt that more acutely than he felt he should have. He definitely deserved it, though. This was his fault after all.

“Alright, I deserved that one, but--”

“Shh!” Blitzwing hissed suddenly and rather harshly. It was the scout’s turn to frown.

“You know what? No. You listen--”

“What about quiet do you not understand? Shut your vox,” Icy said with venom in his lowered voice. Bumblebee furrowed his brow ridges and listened intently to their surroundings. In an instant, he had his stingers in servos and stood alert. There was something alright...the frequency of it sent Bee’s sensors into a frenzy.

Bumblebee narrowed his cerulean optics. “What the--”

“Watch out!” Blitzwing yelled, instincts to arm his guns denied by the Safety Protocols. He cursed the orange and blue menace Sentinel and grunted as he collided with something organic. The roar that resulted could felt as if it would deafen his audials. His servos clenched oddly smooth, off-putting flesh which glistened with moisture. He felt the world spin as he tackled the large creature, whatever the Pit spawned thing was, and he now questioned his bright idea to do so. As he crashed into the wretched wetness which coated the surface of this sentient being’s flesh and lost vision as his faceplates met the mess, Blitzwing sputtered in disgust and horror. It was in his mouth!

“Frag, Blitzwing, get up!” Bumblebee nearly screeched as the alien beast lunged for him, jerking the triple changer’s helm to the side as its skin reluctantly released his plating. Bumblebee flashed his headlights from dim to their brightest setting, hoping to blind the creature in order to gain the upper servo in this situation. The thing was horrifying; its maw contained teeth which the likes of earth had not prepared the scout for, and it was massive. He was in awe and stilled by the sight of the organic mere feet away from him.

Time resumed when the alien was halted by two large servos around its midriff, digging into its pliable, slick flesh. The organic screamed, and Blitzwing yelled loud enough to combat the struggling mass before the scout.

“Shoot!” Icy’s vox broke through to Bumblebee, who had utilized his stingers to no avail. The moment slowed as pain tore through the scout’s shoulder as the mouth of the dark, struggling mass locked onto his upper arm and tore it from his frame in a swift motion. Wires trailed from his shoulder joint, straining, and snapping, causing white hot pain to overtake his systems.

“Shoot fraggit I cannot do it for you! My weapons are disabled!” Blitzwing screamed, feeling the slither of something up his legs, grazing over parts he did not want to think of anything organic ever going. He scratched the creatures chest with his digits, prying, pleading internally for Bumblebee to kill it already.

The sound of the Bee’s mounted blaster took off the beast’s head, halfway decapitating it. Icy’s visage was splattered with dark indigo viscera as he felt the alien body slouch in his straining arms. The tentacles fell away from his shaking frame. Blitzwing wiped furiously at the organic’s blood in his optics, clearing them enough to see Bumblebee’s hunched frame.

“Bumblebee,” Icy bit out in panic, stumbling over to him. “Cauterize it. Do it now,” Blitzwing ordered, not waiting for a response, shoving a stinger into the shocked bots servo. Bumblebee activated his weapon of choice and held it to his shoulder stump, gritting his dentae while the heat fused his exposed protoform and tubing, successfully stopping the flow of energon from the wound.

The scout swallowed roughly, chancing a glace at the corpse of their foe. “What in the fucking name of Primus was **that**?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! :) I will write and post when time allows, life has given me some difficult times at the moment.
> 
>  
> 
> _Sorry for the brevity of the chapter, there has been way to much happening and my health has not been the best recently. I am going to try and get this next chapter out ASAP!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long + the brevity of the chapter. Hopefully I'll be able to post again this following week to keep this thing rolling!

The cave was damp, but not soaked like all else had been in the downpour. The cavern opened up to a spot where Blitzwing had been able to sit comfortably without any sharp rock formations jutting into his back plates. The triple changer’s facial components felt oddly tight and swollen, and the caustic feeling of the slime from the monster which had assaulted them still lingered in his intake. Bumblebee just sat next to the clear water of the cavern’s pool, which seemed to have no end to its depths the further it snaked into the cave.

The scout tentatively reached his remaining servo into the water, which Blitzwing obviously disliked, as he hissed. “What are you doing? You have no idea what chemical compounds make up this planet’s water!”

Bumblebee sighed. He glanced over his shoulder, not bothering to withdraw his servo. The water was fine. The filth clogging his joints dislodged and dripped into the crystalline pool, spreading like ink in the water.

“It is fine, Blitz-” he was promptly cut off.

“Fine? _Fine_?” The triple changer grunted, heaving his frame off of the smooth stone beneath his pedes. He took limping steps towards the amber mech. “What about this situation is fine, Bumblebee? Tell me that much. I mean, Primus, your fragging arm is missing!”

Bumblebee lifted a servo full of water to the stump where his arm had been hours earlier and rinsed it off in the cool liquid. “I realize,” he muttered, painfully aware of the trouble he had gotten them into. It was his fault. All of this was a mess he had caused. If only he had checked that he had that locator before he had left. He was certain Sentinel Prime had mentioned it while his CPU was somewhere else completely. “I’d say we should just expect that my arm has been stolen or consumed by some organic monstrosity by now. Maybe the medics can craft a temporary appendage out of the scrap metal Sentinel keeps alluding to…” the scout frowned. He didn’t like the thought of having a sub-par appendage but frag, what other options were there?

“No.” Icy’s emotionless vox alerted Bee to his proximity. “I’ll retrieve it when it is brighter out.”

“What?! No, you can’t be serious. That’s foolish, why would you go out there alone? I’m coming with you.”

Blitzwing laboriously shifted into a sitting position, keeping his pedes out of the way of the glistening water. “Not a chance. You are wounded. You are no good without an arm. I have a size advantage in this situation.”

Bumblebee huffed and rolled his optics. “Wow, so I’m useless now, huh? I can do more than you think I can with one arm. You can’t force me to stay, Blitz.” The scout scanned the larger mech’s expression, dermas set in a stern line. Blitzwing’s faceplates looked rough. His larger optic that would typically cycle open and closed to focus more efficiently was forced shut by the intensity of the wound it sustained. His other optic was inflamed, but functional. Part of his dermas was considerably larger than the other side giving the mech a sort of pouting expression. The rest of his frame looked like it hurt to touch, still covered in places by the creatures essence. Bumblebee drew his attention back to the triple-changer’s face. “You need to wash off. That grime cannot be good for you, and I am pretty sure it's already starting to damage you.”

Blitzwing frowned. “The water…”

“Do you see me melting? Come on Blitz, you need to take care of yourself. It’s shallow here,” Bumblebee patted the water close to the embankment, inviting his injured companion to enter the pool. “It won’t hurt you.”

Blitzwing gave in. He shifted his weight, essentially scooting his aching frame towards the pool which he hesitantly began to enter, pedes first. It was not offensive to the touch, and as much as he loathed to admit it, the water caressed his aching joints and the wounds littering his frame. The slant of the bank supported his helm and neck when he leaned back, especially considering the amount of large rocks surrounded them. The mech sighed as he began to wipe the gruesome, congealed slime from his chest and extremities.

“That good, huh? I might join you,” Bee announced, wading into the water and plopping beside the triple changer.

“It is fine,” Blitzwing said, voice reflecting his fatigue. The scout noticed.

“Here, you can’t see it all. Let me,” Bumblebee scooted closer, ready to put his servos out to steady himself, forgetting he had only one. He tumbled and fell face first into Blitzwing’s midriff, creating a spray of water between them. The triple changer expelled the fluid from his intake. “Frag me,” Bee scoffed, not entirely pleased about his clumsiness. “Not a word out of you. I can manage fine with one arm.”

Icy rolled his least swollen optic, wiping the water from his intake with a clawed servo. Bumblebee situated himself awkwardly, deciding that straddling the larger mech would allow access to his faceplates. The scout searched Blitzwing’s expression for any sign of discomfort.

Bee’s face felt hot, but he ignored it as best he could, opting to cup water in his good servo to cleanse the triple changer’s most swollen optic. The geers that would usually cycle the optic larger and smaller were jammed with the organic’s essence. As water cascaded over it, Blitzwing hissed quietly. Bumblebee gently worked at the goo surrounding the outer portion of the optic, pouring more water over it to cleanse it. This was a work in progress.

The amber mech treated Blitzwing’s wounds with as much care as he could, smoothing water over the swollen dermas, the side of his face, and his chest plates. Eventually, the scout decided to dislodge any of the goo from the triple changer’s backplates. Blitzwing frowned.

“How soon will the Prime come looking for you?”

Bumblebee considered for a moment. “Optimus doesn’t leave one of his bots behind. I’d say he’s already at it. With backup, most likely. I’m doubtful he would travel alone.”

Blitzwing grunted. “Somehow I doubt his sincerity, but what would I know? There is such a disparity between your Prime and Megatron that it is hard to believe such a mech exists. It feels like mockery to me.”

Bee sighed. “I don’t blame you, considering your past with Megatron. I don’t want to imagine being subordinate to that mech. Although, Optimus is not a perfect leader. Far from it, actually, so your hesitance to trust his motives aren’t all that strange.”

“Well, the evidence that the Prime cares for you is blatant. To not see that you would have to be blind. He _trusts_ you. Does the stability of the Autobots not resonate with you?”

“Well, he ejected me into deep space with no warning,” Bumblebee pointed out, scrubbing at the triple changer’s backplates a little harder. “He does not stand up to the council, which has somehow evaded being involved with any of the earth events other than give us orders from wherever the frag they are right now,” he growled.

“You don’t see how good you have it,” Blitzwing stated coldly, catching Bumblebee completely off guard. “You will not see it. You can’t understand that no matter what you do, you will have Optimus Prime and your team there to stand up for you. They will protect you at all costs, readily sacrificing themselves for you. Have you ever considered how your actions contradict everything you have laid out for you? Have you ever known loneliness in your entire time functioning? It would have been so _fragging_ easy to keep track of our location if I did not have my system’s functions blocked with this program…” Icy’s vox hissed.

“And this...what is this?” Blitzwing sat up suddenly, startling Bumblebee as he stumbled back. An extremely sharp pain exploded in Blitzwing’s helm and he gasped. The triple changer grimaced as he stood, water cascading down his angular form. “You pretend to **want** to be around me, you treat my wounds, you...you…” Icy’s expression morphed into a snarl. “You would not want my company if you weren’t ordered to follow me. I’m just a trophy on a leash for you to flaunt,” Blitzwing spat. “I will not be owned. I will not fall for your tricks, your emotional sabotage...I am not as simple as you think.”

Bumblebee was holding up his singular servo. “Woah woah woah! No, Blitzwing, no, I don’t own you, I don’t agree with any of this shit! Why would I? If I could disable the coding I would in an instant!” The amber mech frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m so fragging sorry! I can’t undo this, I can’t do a lot of things right, but I’m not lying to your face. I’m not pretending, I’m not trying to manipulate you…” Bee’s vox softened. “I know I fucked everything up, alright? I-if you want me to leave you alone, we can do that. I can do that.”

There was silence as Blitzwing contemplated. What _did_ he want? Primus, why did he feel so sympathetic towards Bumblebee? He felt his sudden fury dissipating, instead being replaced with annoyance. Those Primus slagging blue optics were wide, compassionate, and honestly more calming than anything else far back as Blitzwing could currently recall. But the mech wouldn't admit that, at least not right now. He wouldn't be the one to be rational, not that he was ever expected to be. He was the insane one, the bot who’d had his processor divided three ways and prodded at by that half-organic spider glitch. He had an excuse--he wasn't about to let this situation get the better of him. He definitely would not be swayed by the yellow scout’s palpable guilt flooding from his EM field, or how compromising the bot looked with one less arm.

A sickening feeling gripped the triple changer’s insides. He had let himself fall victim to this emotion culminating within his CPU. Confusion was overpowered by want, which troubled Blitzwing. He had been so good at warding off the desire for companionship, lashing out at mechs who threatened to be a source of interest for him with unnerving antics. Being the unstable, unpredictable maniac in the Decepticon ranks was far easier than confronting these feelings. Blitzwing ran a servo down his face in exhaustion.

Random’s persona took the wheel, optics squinted from the damage of the organic’s toxic goop. “You’re not scary little bug! We don’t need to be coddled like a sparkling! But if you insist, energon candies sound delicious!” The cackle from the toothy grin filled the cavernous space. Blitzwing’s face shifted into Hothead’s rouge complexion, revealing the grimace across his dermas. “As if you don’t despise who I am. Do not pretend to want to be close to a mech like me! It’s insulting and,” Random’s visage took over once more “...hilarious! You want to treat me like a happy little Autobot! You want to be my friend? HaHA!”

Icy’s persona returned, dermas pressed into a terse line. “You are the confused one, Autobot. Befuddled and ignorant, apparently. I do not have anything else to say to you at the moment.”

Bumblebee watched as Blitzwing limped away back towards the cave’s perimeter. He felt his spark stutter as he sat back on on damp floor, listening to the gears in the triple changer’s frame click as he eased into a sitting position, inevitably ungracefully given he needed repairs. Bee blinked, and looked down at his remaining servo. The air was tense. His spinal connectors buzzed with nervous energy. The scout sighed, having nothing to say to Blitzwing to make the situation better, and decided to wade into the cool waters of the spring alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My schedule has been berserk, so sorry for the inconsistent updates! I am going to be working my tail off on the next chapter, so I'll hopefully have it up by next Wednesday (if not before). Have a beautiful day to whoever is reading!  
>  _OptimalSagacity_

Bee watched his footing as he trekked back the way they had come the evening prior. His chest felt tight after Blitzwing had said all he had and then ignored him from then on out. The scout had made sure to ascertain that the triple changer was in recharge before he quietly left the cavern, stepping timidly out into the dewey atmosphere. There had been no sign of life, no sounds, no stirring in his blind spots…

It would be fine. He could do this himself. It was the most he could do at the moment; proving to Blitzwing he was reliable had become important. He _wanted_ that. The sting from Icy’s words still resonated within Bumblebee’s spark. He felt like a fool. There was so much he could have done differently. They could have been back at the base, beginning this solar cycle normally. He could have still had his arm attached to his frame, but no, leave it to him to put them in mortal danger and leave them stranded out where there were massive organics lurking. Leave it to him to prove that he could not handle simple tasks, take important matters seriously, or effectively defend other mechs. He had thought himself better than this, but here he was, seeing his failures front and center.

There was the place of the attack. Bee was on high alert, moving slowly through the clearing. He had one stinger, he could had defenses, there would be no issues if he was aware of his surroundings…

His arm! He looked around and moved swiftly, scooping the appendage up from the ground. He grimaced as the leftover slime drooled from the joints, plopping heavily to the forest floor. _How pleasant…_

It could be salvaged, possibly...with time, attention, and spare parts. The puncture wounds made his fuselage pump stutter. He would rather not come into contact with one of those creatures again, considering the ease with which the thing tore his arm from his frame. Bumblebee shook the arm, trying to rid it of excess grit before heading back to the cave.

That was until the feeling of being watched overtook him. He was immediately armed with his stinger, putting the mangled arm behind his frame. Bee grit his dentae, and spun around, spark clenched in trepidation. His servo shook slightly at the thought of facing one of the organic creatures alone.

”Bumblebee?” A familiar voice shocked the scout. The amber bot whirled around to see Prowl standing in front of him, weaponry at the ready. Bumblebee dropped his detached arm in surprise and lowered his stinger.

“P-Prowl, hey,” Bee sighed in relief, almost falling backwards as he realized it hadn’t been one of the aliens stalking him. Prowl’s optics widened.

“Over here, I found him! He’s injured!” Immediately Prowl approached his injured teammate, retrieving the bot’s yellow, battered arm from the ground. “What happened to you, Bumblebee? Was it Blitzwing? But it couldn’t have been...did the protocol fail?”

The rev of engines punctuated Prowl’s inquiries and both Jazz and Prime transformed from their vehicular modes. Bee prepared to respond to Prowl, but was cut off by Jazz.

“Bee, your arm! How the frag did that happen?”

The scout’s helm was spinning now. “Oh, uh, an organic...we were attacked...Blitzwing is--”

“Primus,” Optimus gasped, and Bumblebee realized now how awful he must look. “We should get you back to the base.” The leader furrowed his optical ridges in concern.

“Guys, I need-- _we_ need to go get Blitzwing. He was in recharge. I left to retrieve my arm. We can’t leave him out here.”

“He is undoubtedly underfueled, as are you. Here,” Prowl handed him a sealed energon ration. Bee took it and tore it with his dentae, tossing his helm back. It hadn’t occurred to him how hungry he had been, but now, feeling the energon run down his intake, he was grateful.

“So, what happened?” Optimus asked, grimacing at the sight of his scout’s hastily cauterized shoulder joint. Bumblebee wiped his dermas with the back of his servo.

“We were attacked by this _thing_. It was massive. Blitzwing could barely hold onto it. I think there was something toxic seeping from it’s flesh because Blitz’s faceplates have swollen pretty badly and we haven’t been able to get rid of all of this slime…” the amber bot beckoned to his abdomen, which still felt clogged with congealed substance.

“Slagging Pits, that’s just what we need,” Jazz scowled. “Optimus, does Sentinel know about any organics in the area? Or is this news to everybot?”

“He has not said anything about the species here containing aggressive organics. The fact that it rivalled Blitzwing is worrying...the purpose of this mission in particular was to assess the environment, document the terrain and assess the species close to base. It was not well explained by Sentinel,” Optimus growled, “And not run by me either.” Optimus ran a servo over his forehelm. “This is why my presence is necessary. There was no consideration for safety, no logistics run beforehand, nothing!” the red and blue mech shook his head. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

Guilt flared in Bumblebee’s chassis. “It was actually my fault, Boss. I forgot the correct mapping devices and screwed us over by taking us too far out of the way of the base. Blitzwing and I could have avoided this if I’d had my helm in the right place.” Bumblebee huffed, thinking about the mech he had left behind. “Speaking of the mech, we really need to go get him. I left without alerting him.”

Optimus Prime shook his helm. “It’s more than that, Bumblebee. There will be changes implemented around here. My team will not be put in jeopardy because of Sentinel’s shortcomings. I promise you.”

“Thanks Optimus.” Bee uttered, appreciating the feeling of being reassured. Even now, his leader’s words held potential.

“Let’s roll out team,” the Prime stated assertively, snapping up the yellow bot’s arm in his transformation sequence. Bumblebee transformed, finding that his alt mode was damaged significantly. Bee cursed, reluctantly shifting back into his bipedal.

“Guys, I’m all fragged up. I can’t drive like this.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Optimus pointed out, drawing attention to his trailer. Feeling like dead weight, the scout climbed in, sliding in next to his arm. He exhaled heavily, releasing a breath he had not realized he had been holding. The back of Bumblebee’s helm clunked against the side of the semi trailer. _This drags._

~

Bumblebee skidded into the cavern, nearly wiping out as he recalled his lack of balance, only to be met by an EM field projecting panic and anger. That halted the scout in his steps. His optics adjusted to a towering form approaching.

“What were you thinking?” Icy’s vox was sharp. Bumblebee shuttered his optics, and realized he was face to chest with Blitzwing...an angry Blitzwing. Bee shuddered at the barrage of emotions which encompassed him.

“Blitz, listen, I’ve got it. My arm, it was still there. I know you’re upset-”

“Upset does not even _begin_ to describe what I am feeling, insect.” Blitzwing bit out, his squinted rouge optic menacing in the low light. “You thought I wouldn’t notice that you left me here in this damp hole in this Primus forsaken planet. What do you take me for?” Icy’s growl sent chills down Bumblebee’s spinal connectors (which wasn’t necessarily incited by fear).

“I didn’t want you to go. It was my mess, it is my job to carry out what is necessary to correct it. I don’t care that you said that you’d go out and get my fragging arm. I. Did. It. Alright?”

“Bumblebee?” Optimus’ vox echoed into the spacious cavern. “Do you need backup? Is Blitzwing with you?”

The triple changer’s frame visibly relaxed. He glanced at Bumblebee and then at the mouth of the cave where the vox had come from. Bee felt a fraction of pride well up within him.

“And I found help. I’m not such a pointless waste of space after all.” Blitzwing huffed in response, making his way out of the cave. Bumblebee became suddenly serious. “You don’t have to like what I did, but I wouldn’t change it. You were right, Blitz...I really fucked up. I haven’t been a bot I’d look up to, or one I’d want to be around solar cycles at a time.” Bee cleared his intake. “I guess...I just wanted to say I’ll try harder to be a better mech.”

He could tell Blitzwing heard him and that was enough.

~

There was a different set of medics in the base. An older mech and couple younger bots took over caring for both Bumblebee and Blitzwing. Bee insisted that they treat both of them together in close proximity, remembering vividly the last time the triple changer had been in the medibay.

The operation to reattach his arm was a nuisance. The medic had to undo the cauterization, dig out the wires and connectors which had been damaged and attempt to find suitable pairs within the scrapped arm. Bumblebee sat unenthused, figuring that the arm would be a lost cause in the end. With the pain dampener turned on, he had no feeling in his armless side, only the knowledge that the two mechs working on him now were intently picking and prodding at the stump. Now and then he would offer a glance at Blitzwing, who was being treated with salves and solvents to eradicate the organic’s vile lubricant from his faceplates. At least the triple changer’s EM field was calmer with their closeness in the medical ward.

Sentinel was not pleased. Soon after the team of mechs had returned, Optimus was seething. The orange and blue Prime attempted to wave off Optimus, asking for him to calm down before they could speak. Optimus did not take kindly to that.

“You will sit your aft down and listen to your fellow Prime, or I will have you reported to the Council,” Optimus hissed, slamming a servo against the wall in front of Sentinel. Sentinel Prime narrowed his optics.

“You think you’re really something, don’t you? Coming here, acting all high and mighty, while you have taken no time to consider who exactly has put the time into organizing this program.”

“There is no rationality, Sentinel! Your system is going to fail you, and what will you do then? There is more to worldbuilding than you believe, and if you would just get over your pride, maybe asking for help would occur to you!” Optimus countered, face to face with Sentinel.

“If this is about your scout, I am sorry, really I am. I gave him clear instructions, and yet still he has fragged himself. I do not need, nor do I _want_ your assistance, Optimus.”

“I don’t think you know, Sentinel. There are creatures out there that nearly **offlined** Bumblebee and Blitzwing because of that very program! Not everything is going to be solved by the implementation of a program you had installed in the cortexes of our former enemy. Don’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve gotten so wrapped up in your own obsessions that you haven’t opened your optics to what is really happening on the surface of this planet!” Optimus’ vents ran high in his anger. “I expected more of you, Sentinel, and I’m sure the High Council did too. And as for _our_ partnership; it was ordered by Alpha Trion, and Magnus himself approved of it. Get used to seeing my faceplates around here, because we’re going to get really familiar, Sentinel.”

“No,” Sentinel barked disbelievingly. “What creatures? The flora? The vegetation? Prove it to me Optimus Prime. What organics have been seen other than the moving blossoms?”

“Have you ventured outside of the base recently? This planet is expansive. What makes it unbelievable that other lifeforms here could pose a threat to us?” Prowl interjected, servos held at the crux of his spinal connectors. “I think you should speak with Bumblebee and Blitzwing before deciding what does and does not exist, Sentinel Prime Sir.”

“Did I ask you, Agent Prowl?” The Prime hissed. Prowl’s expression did not waver. Sentinel turned his attention back to Optimus. “ And, if what you say is valid, is that **any** way to speak to your partner? I’ll be contacting Ultra Magnus to verify all of this you do realize.” Sentinel jabbed a digit at Optimus’ chest, which was promptly slapped away by said mech.

“You’ll do best to respect my team, Sentinel.” Optimus stated with cold optics. “If you do not believe that there are significant organics out there, then why don’t you go yourself to explore? I wouldn’t suggest going out alone, of course,” Sentinel attempted to interrupt, but Optimus waved him off. “I would speak to Bumblebee and Optimus if I were you. The medics are having a Pit of a time repairing the damage to their frames, and indentations in their plating have been identified as bite marks. But what do I know, right?” Optimus smiled humorlessly. “We’ll discuss more in detail later on. I know you have to contact your superior, Sentinel. I won’t stop you.”

With that, Optimus left his partner stewing, beckoning Prowl to accompany him.

~

Blitzwing’s faceplates were slightly less swollen now, and the pain dampeners helped with the pain in his frame, bringing the intensity down to a residual ache. Bumblebee had not spoken to him since before their return, and as much as he loathed to admit it, he missed the interaction with the scout. He had considered what the bot had said, deeming it a genuine enough apology to believe. The triple changer hadn’t expected it, which also contributed to his surprise when he heard Bumblebee say it. Remorse for his outburst at Bee needled at his conscience.

Bumblebee’s reattached arm was bound to his torso with ample wrapping, although not overly tightly; only enough to keep it immobile while the energon supply reestablished itself and the protomesh mended. He had attained more engex, nothing pricey, just the run of the mill, average quality stuff that they had which was more abundant than what he had secured before. He sipped at a glass, looked out at the drab kitchenette space.

Blitzwing eased his frame off of his berth and made his way over to Bee. He took a seat across from him at the bar seats. “How do you feel, Bumblebee?”

Deep blue optics shuttered and adjusted to focus on the triple changer in front of him. “Oh, you know, just peachy,” a half smile appeared. “I feel like...oh, what is it...oh yeah, a _mummy_.”

“What is that? A human thing? An organic animal?” Icy’s vox sounded tired, but nonetheless expressive.

“Hah, no...well, technically, yes, a human. It was a ritual performed by ancient humans to bind the dead with bandages. They would wrap the whole body, I’m pretty sure. Anyway, children liked to dress up mummies on a certain human celebration because they see them as scary. I guess I’m not a true mummy, though, since I’m only partially covered.”

Blitzwing grimaced. “Humans can be rather disgusting. Just thinking about the dead is perturbing…”

“But they can also be wonderful and expressive,” Bumblebee countered. “If Decepticons weren’t so set on...well, not the point, but there was never a chance for you to experience the good qualities of humans, was there?”

“I guess not,” Icy muttered, glancing at the cube of engex. “Could you pour me a glass? Just one this time.”

“Sure,” Bee piped, glad to have the mech talking again. “If we go back to earth, you should meet some of the humans. I think you would enjoy it. They’re not as strange as you think.”

“Possibly,” Blitzwing expressed, watching as the golden bot poured his drink. “They would probably be afraid of me.”

Bumblebee pushed the drink towards the larger mech. “Maybe, but only temporarily. They don’t know much about you, other than your association with the Cons. They’d warm up to you.” _Just like I have…_

“If you say so,” Blitzwing said softly. Icy hummed in approval as he took a gulp of the engex. “I do enjoy this. This was never a part of my life in the Decepticon faction.” Icy paused. “The drink and the conversation, I mean.”

Bumblebee nodded. “Blitz, I...you know…” the scout sighed. “I’m not trying to manipulate you. I don’t want things to be weird between us, so...I can…” Bee let his forehelm fall into his servo. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve fragged things up irreparably. I haven’t been a good example of what a member of Team Prime should be, and it’s okay if you want to establish boundaries between us.”

“I realize,” Icy’s vox filled the momentary silence. “That was a slip on my part, a generalization...I know that your intentions are not the same as High Council’s, or Sentinel Prime’s. I was under a lot of stress and my CPU does not always handle that well, if it wasn’t clear enough. There were times where I was a lot more stable than I am now.” Bitterness came through Icy’s tone of voice. “I do not want us to be estranged...but I have not had a mech **want** to be close to me. You understand?”

The scout nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Bumblebee swallowed. “So, you don’t mind that I _want_ to get to know you?” Bee attempted to be confident as he said this, but felt his faceplates heat up after it was out of his dermas.

Something in Blitzwing’s demeanor lightened, and Icy’s dermas curled into an uninhibited smile. “No, I do not mind.”


End file.
